


Heatwaves on Autopilot

by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Slow Burn, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Keith is a grumpy angsty baby and he's mad that he has to keep jerking off every five minutes, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent Due To Sex Pollen Matters, Sex Pollen with Feelings (what a great tag), Sexual Tension and Frustration as far as the eye can see, Shiro is tired and just wants his children to function, bottom/top switching, space alcohol/space drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot/pseuds/WhatTheBodyGraspsNot
Summary: Keith and Lance unknowingly inhale an alien aphrodisiac during a simple resource retrieval mission. But unlike the common aphrodisiac, this particular one reactivates under certain unknown conditions, later leaving them craving in situations that don't necessarily present them with many options. Keith tries to work through it, concerned with the sudden lack of control of his body, until he realizes the same thing is happening to Lance. So...great. How are they supposed to deal with this, keep it a secret, AND tend to the thousands of other responsibilities that come with defending the universe? (Together, of course.)





	1. Wave One

It’s not fair. There’s no reason why Keith has to tag along on this mineral retrieval mission. Lance can be in and out in no time, without  _anyone_. “Easy peasy,” he had even said. But no. Keith  _has_ to go with him. Keith and Lance. Still trudging their way through the high coral-colored grass that they’d touched down in about ten minutes ago, their cavernous destination still so far away. 

“The air stinks.” It’s Lance who says it, clearly just as annoyed… “This grass is weird as hell, too.” ...and with every passing comment, Keith’s urge to throw himself off the side of the cliff they’re now traversing grows. “Haven’t seen any signs of life in for _eeeeeever_ -” 

“Will you shut up?” 

It cuts Lance’s complaining off just as expected, but not without the resulting turn-and-scowl combo that’s thrown around so often between the two of them. “Chill, Grumpy Pants. I’m just saying this blows.” 

“I know it blows.” Keith’s glaring through the visor of his helmet now, straight ahead. “ _Everyone_ knows it blows. I don’t know how anyone  _couldn’t_ know how much this blows.” 

This really fucking blows. 

Lance ignores him completely. “You’d think they could’ve picked a better planet for us to retrieve this…” he stalls for a moment, gesturing unhelpfully in front of himself as he no doubt traces back in his memory. 

“Tanzenite crys-” 

“Yeah whatever, it’s red and it’s sparkly and Coran needs it to for one of his weird space thingies.” Lance is picking up his pace now, obviously not weighed down in the slightest by the bad karma of interrupting someone while they’re talking. 

Keith takes a personal second for a calming breath, which is, ironically, right as none other than Coran’s voice comes in through the comms. 

 _‘You should be nearing the crystal formations. I’m picking up a strong reading a few yards out.’_   

“Copy that,” Lance answers back, his tone slipping into something much more focused and committed now. 

Keith has to say the promise of their mission ending soon  _does_ hype him up a little too. The sooner he’s off this godforsaken planet, the sooner he can get back to doing literally anything else. “There it is.” 

The cavern’s open mouth greets them silently - a dark stony maw that almost completely hides the faint glow of red from inside. 

Almost. 

Lance puffs his chest in adventurous vibrato. “We’re go-” 

 “We’re going in.” 

“-oh.” The deflating sound is practically real as he glances over to his teammate, “I...was gonna say that.” 

 Keith tsks quietly as they breach the darkness, “Then say it first,” their helmets adding to the cavern’s glow. 

 “I was  _gonna_ say it first. You cut me off.” 

 “Mm. That must suck.” 

 Lance opens his mouth to argue, but then it must hit him, his hand dropping as he lets Keith pass him. “Mmk yeah, I see what you did there.” 

A gust of wind whooshes through the dark opening, whistling lowly but barely able to be felt through the material of their suits. They follow the tell-tale color until a dim red becomes a vibrant almost-pink. And Keith’s never been so thankful to see a cluster of crystals in his entire life.  

“We’re here, Coran,” he says, crouching down to examine where one protrudes from the soft dirt below. “How many do you need again?” 

The adviser's voice comes through as Lance steps into Keith’s peripheral vision, his face tilted upwards as if he’s looking at something high on the cavern’s wall. 

 _‘Two or three should do. The generator does a remarkable job at siphoning excess-_ _’_  

“Two or three,” Keith nods, “got it.” And huh...come to think of it, maybe he actually interrupts people more than Lance does. Speaking of... “Lance.” 

“Huh.” 

“What the hell are you doing.” It’s not even a question. Not after all the times in the past he’s had to ask it. But still, given the fact that the boy in question is still staring up at...whatever… “ _Lance_.” 

“This flower’s weird.” Is his response. Like that’s a good excuse as to why he’s obsessed with some blue-bulbed flower instead of helping. “Weird, weird.” 

“Are you gonna get over here and do your job or what?” The agitation is starting to creep back. Keith can feel it in his bones. And right after he had promised Shiro that he’d try to stop being so pissy all the time. “ _Lance_.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Yeah, hang on.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“What, you can’t dig a couple of crystals out by yourself?” 

 He swears he doesn’t growl. “ _You_ have the pod we’re putting the crystals  _in_ , genius.” 

“Alright, yeesh…” But he’s not moving. And he’s not helping. In fact, he’s doing the opposite - his hand slowly reaching up to poke his pointer finger into one of the moist blue petals of the flower above him. 

It’s not the moisture that bothers Keith. 

It’s the fine blue puff of pollen that scatters into the air as a result of it. 

Keith glares. He does. He admits it. “Are you for real.” 

“What?” 

“Just get over here and help me before I do something I regret.” 

Lance chuckles without fear, but does as requested - finally. “Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“Like-...I dunno,” Keith huffs, pulling probably not as gently as he should be at the nearest crystal, the red mineral just small enough to fit in his hand as he rotates it out of the ground. 

Lance scoffs as he crouches nearby. “Whoa, scary-Keith.” 

It’s enough of a distraction that they don’t notice the gust of wind that carries the pollen through the air, the particles glistening as they dance toward another cluster of blue wall flowers just like the first one. Keith rolls his eyes, oblivious to the new puffs of pollen that join in the dance one by one - a sort of silent chain reaction that has the air in the cavern glittering in no time. 

“Alright. Here’s one.” He hands the crystal over, eyes already fixed on the next one to be extracted. But the help never comes. 

“I’m just saying...it’s weird that there’s a plant growing this deep in a cave, right?” 

Keith’s grip around the mineral tightens, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He doesn’t get paid enough for this. Or at all, actually. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re on an alien planet. Shit’s weird everywhere. Move on.” 

He settles for tossing the crystal onto the ground next to him, his breath somehow fogging the visor of his helmet even though it doesn’t even reach his mouth. It’s the least of his worries with the way the next extraction is currently going downhill very quickly. There’s an edge that must be sticking out underground. That’s the only way it could be giving him so much trouble. And the only way he could be working up a sweat like this. Jesus, is he really getting out of breath just from trying to wiggle something out of the dirt? 

The crystal budges and then is pried out with an agitated grunt from Keith. But it’s out. And they just need one more. And then they can get out of this stupid fucking cave and maybe his heartbeat can slow down a little. 

He leaves it by the other one, still tossed on the ground by Lance’s leg, and returns for the last. His skin sticks to the inside of his suit but he zeroes in on his prize anyway, even through the sudden burn in his eyes and his gut and his arms...all the way down to his fingertips...which is...is weird right? It’s… 

Keith takes a second. 

Sits back on his heels. 

Takes his helmet off and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the sticky sweat from his brow. 

And it’s just then that he realizes… It’s quiet. Very quiet. Lance hasn’t said anything in a while. And that’s...not like him. 

“Hey,” he tries, but his breathing is labored, and it melts his voice into something winded and almost weak as he turns toward him. “Lance-” 

But what he sees is  _not_ Lance - not really - not like how he normally acts. Because this is Lance sitting, quietly, his gaze hazy and eyelids heavy and lips parted as he stares downward at nothing in particular. 

He looks like how Keith feels, and suddenly it’s becoming clear that he wasn’t breaking a sweat from mining minerals. 

“H-... Hey…” 

“It’s  _hot_ …” Lance’s voice is no better - soft but heavy. And when he turns - “S’hot...ya know?” - Keith can see the blush taking over his cheeks. 

It does something to his stomach. Knots it up. Twists it all weird and makes the burn turn into a dull ache, “Yeah,” but it still burns. Burning. Burning. “Take your helmet off or something.” 

 _Burning._  

Lance reaches up and tugs at his helmet just as suggested, a grunt punctuating the movement as his hair falls back against his head. The helmet crunches down into the soft ground as it lands haphazardly, but Keith’s more stuck on the way Lance lets out a warm huff of a breath - the darkness in his eyes - the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of his face...past his jawline...along the dark skin of his throat… 

It’s hard to swallow. Almost impossible. The heat is sticky and wet and Keith doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop looking. Can’t stop staring. Can’t stop watching the bob of Lance’s adam’s apple as he tries to swallow too. It’s intriguing. Vexing. Arousing. 

He blinks. 

What the fuck? 

“Keith…” 

Hearing his name should snap him back - should break him out of it - but Lance’s voice is heavy and low and it isn’t long before Keith realizes that the curl in his stomach is more than simple unfounded arousal. Way more. Especially with the way Lance is looking at him now, brows furrowed as he stares with heavy eyelids. 

Because fuck.  _Fuck_. 

He doesn’t realize he’s slowly edging toward him until their knees bump together, their helmets forgotten on the ground along with the crystals they came here for. They don’t even matter anymore, to be honest. Not even a little bit. No, there’s only thing that matters - one thing that Keith’s stupid fucking brain can focus on. 

“Keith-... Something’s-...” 

Lance is close now. Very close. So close that it’s easy to see how blown wide his pupils are. To notice the heat coming off of his skin. To feel his breath ghosting against Keith’s mouth as they sit, lips parted and breath heavy between them. 

And Keith is screwed. Officially. He can’t even deny how fucked he is - how ridiculously turned on he is. He’s hard and he doesn’t know why. 

Lance moves before his brain can process it - fast-quick-solid-weight that hits against him so unexpectedly hard that Keith is falling backwards from it, his head hitting off the ground, but it only hurts a little because he’s much more preoccupied with the mouth moving hungrily against his. It knocks the air out of his lungs and fills his head with a giddy high and goes straight to his pants all at once. All of it. And Keith feels like he might melt or implode at any minute. 

“F-...” his hands struggle into the nonexistent space between their chests, trying to push, trying to do  _something_ , but the intense heat that’s washing over him muddles his mind - his thought-process - his priorities. And  _fuck_ he needs to come or he’s definitely gonna melt into the planet's surface. 

Lance’s mouth moves down to the side of Keith’s neck, the only other skin that’s left exposed by their suits. He mumbles something against him and then  _bites_ , his teeth grazing a sensitive spot that pulls out the most embarrassing sound that Keith’s ever made in his entire life. And that’s it. That’s fucking it. Fuck this.   

The flip is quick, smooth, and practically flawless, and it leaves Lance confused as Keith settles on top of him. But it doesn’t take away from the redness of his face or the warmth of his heavy breath - not for either of them.   

“You’re-” 

“Shut up,” Keith huffs, just barely getting it out before crashing their lips back together. And it’s hot and eager but this time it’s better, because this time Keith rolls his hips down, and the friction of it is enough to send them back into orbit. 

Lance’s voice comes out in a strangled hitch, his back arching in response before his hips start to join in too. And then it’s all up for grabs - breath fast and heavy - mouths desperate - bodies moving together in an even more desperate grind because the fabric of their suits is thick but they can feel each other if they try - if they  _really fucking try_ \- if they press together tightly enough and fast enough and holy shit Keith is gonna come. He’s gonna come he’s gonna come he’s gonna- 

“-ffFUUCK-” 

His eyes squeeze shut so tight that he sees stars - bright white and pulsing and he can just barely hear Lance over the overwhelming thrum of fire igniting in his stomach and his chest and all the way out to his fingertips. It’s a release that flows through his entire body - lights him up and then floods him out and then leaves him there panting. And. 

And. 

 ...and… 

He just came. 

In the paladin suit. 

With Lance. 

He just came in the paladin suit with Lance. 

Keith’s eyes snap open, meeting the ones already looking at him.  _He just came in the paladin suit with Lance._  

“Ff...fuck...” He doesn’t mean to say it. He really doesn’t. But. 

Lance’s eyes are wide. Unsure. Trying not to make direct contact now. “Uh…” 

Because what?  _What_?  _What_ _the fuck?_  

Leaning back to climb off of Lance is more than a little awkward, made even worse by the very obvious leftover feeling of coming in said suit. And the heat is lingering. Tauntingly. A low, warm buzz through his whole body. 

Now free, Lance sits up too, rubbing a hand through his hair. And as much as Keith pretends to fucking hate his jokes, they could definitely use one of them right about now to help cut through the tension. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. At all. He just lets his hand run all the way back until it’s rubbing at the back of his neck. 

And Keith’s heartbeat is going about a thousand beats too fast. 

Holy shit. 

Holy fucking shit. 

 _‘-_ _in...come in-_ _’_  

Both heads whip towards where their helmets are still lying forgotten on the ground a few feet away, desperate for a distraction. It presents itself in the tiny, very far-away voice of Coran. 

Keith scrambles to pick his up and shove it back onto his head, “Y-...” his voice scratchy until he clears his throat, “Yeah. We’re here, Coran.” 

 _‘Ah! There you are. I was starting to worry. Our feed must’ve been interrupted.’_ Coran’s voice is cheerful. Oblivious. It almost helps Keith start to calm down a little bit. 

Even if he has to straight up lie about what just happened to save his ass. “Must’ve. Could be the cave.” 

“We got your space crystals.” Lance’s helmet is now placed firmly back over his head, and Keith wonders if Coran can hear the difference in his voice as much as he can. 

“What he means is  _I_ got your space crystals,” he fires back regardless, what just happened between them somehow amazingly not enough to stifle the urge to argue. 

Lance frowns, but doesn’t look at him. 

It’s weird. 

Keith wants to go home. 

“On our way back,” he says, and then gathers the crystals from the ground and tries to ignore the way Lance doesn’t say anything as he follows him toward the mouth of the cavern and out into the open air and coral-colored grass. 

They walk in silence. Awkward. Thick. 

Keith is ready for his heart to stop beating so goddamn fast. 

When they reach them, the bay doors of the ship close tightly behind them, the sound echoing off the castle’s metallic walls, and the unbearably uncomfortable silence between them feels like it will never end. 

That is, until: 

“I’ll uh… I’ll go get these to Coran.” The pod of crystals is lifted out of Keith’s hand as Lance pushes past him. “And fill out the report.” 

Keith’s pace slows a bit as he watches the rarity of Lance taking it upon himself to take on the full workload, said teammate walking somewhat briskly in the direction of the control room. “Okay…” 

It’s weird. It’s really fucking weird. But he guesses it’s only natural given what just happened in the cave a few minutes ago. Whatever that... _was._ What the hell  _was_ that? 

“Keith-” 

“What?” A spark of panic shoots through him at the sudden sound of Shiro’s voice, his own much louder with surprised anger than normally acceptable. 

It’s obvious that Shiro hears the difference. “Whoa. You alright?” 

He takes a breath, “Yeah,” readjusts the collar of his suit. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Besides the fact that he just had the shit scared out of him and currently has a sticky wetness making its way down towards to soles of his boots. 

Shiro looks him over with a discerning eyebrow raise, but then presses forward. “How’d it go out there? Alright?” 

“Alright.” 

“Good, then we’re gonna start up combat training in 20.” 

Keith steadies himself, “Got it. Quick shower then I’ll be there,” and then carries forward towards the shower bay on the far end of the wing without even waiting for a response. 

He needs to get out of this suit ASAP. 

  

 __-_-__  

  

Everyone’s in the training room when Keith arrives. Well...everyone except for Lance, that is. But somehow, Keith isn’t the least bit surprised nor bothered by it. He personally feels much better now, his shower break saving him both physically and mentally. 

Shiro’s halfway through explaining something to Pidge when he sidles up to them, settling onto the ground and transitioning into stretches without a word. The burn in his thighs as he extends them and bends downward is worth noting, and it pushes him to spend a little extra time on it as Shiro and Pidge’s conversation comes to a halt when a new voice joins them. 

“Don’t worry, team, I’ve arrived.” It’s Lance, strutting into the room with gesturing hands that demand attention, even if his voice hasn’t quite reached its top-annoyance level. “We can start now.” 

“Did you just come straight from the locker room showers?” It’s Hunk who asks it, clearly baffled by the concept of getting clean just to get sweaty again. 

“Sure did,” Lance answers, and he’s close enough now that Keith can see the few remaining water droplets still clinging to the tips of his hair. “Google Earth, Hunk. Always taking pictures. I know I've told you this before.” 

“I don’t think that meme still applies if we’re a katrillion miles away from Earth…” Pidge points out dryly, but it does nothing to deflate Lance's esteem, who is currently directing his attention elsewhere. 

“What, mullet?” And it’s just now that Keith realizes he’s been staring up at him from his spot on the floor. “You gonna take my picture instead?” 

Keith answers with an eyeroll, deciding against bringing up the fact that he’s staring because Lance’s mood just did a total fucking 180 and he’s having a difficult time processing it. “Just stretch so you don’t pull something.” 

“He  _does_ care.” 

“Just barely.” 

“Alright, we’re gonna work on close combat skills today,” Shiro speaks up, completely ignoring the petty fighting in order to focus on their task at hand. “Nothing crazy - just a little hand-to-hand. We need to be ready in case we’re ever stuck without our bayards.” 

Keith lets out a breath as the burn in his thighs acts up again. He needs to get his shit together - needs to move on from bizarre sexual experiences as easily as Lance apparently can. 

“Hunk, you pair up with Keith. Pidge - you and Lance. Here’s the combo you can start off with.”  

The paladins watch Shiro’s quick demonstration of punch-punch-dodge-upperkick as they shuffle toward their partners, silently committing it to memory. 

It’s an easy enough combo. More of a workout than it is training. Hunk’s punches are super solid and blocking them is like blocking a truck, and he isn’t even trying that hard. Keith can tell by the look on his face - his posture. He feels for whoever is on the receiving end of that full power as he stands there and blocks-blocks-punches-dodges. 

Pidge and Lance seem to be doing alright over there too, the shorter of the two blocking punches with cupped hands. As much as Keith doesn’t want to admit it, Lance probably doesn’t even need this training, not with the way he already excels at close combat if he just takes the time to focus. He’s always been quick on his feet. Agile. He’s got broad shoulders but they lead down to a thin waist and that’s his secret, Keith realizes now as he half watches/half dodges Hunk’s upperkick. Lance's reaction time is so good because he’s got great flexibility at his waist - in his hips. He can bend and twist and outmaneuver attacks with less effort than probably even Shiro. He’s...well he's just _flexible._  

The very sudden intimacy of Lance’s eyes locking with his has Keith tripping up - freezing in the act of getting caught staring twice now in a matter of minutes. But judging by the way he's returning the attention, Lance doesn't seem annoyed, or even  _smug._ No, somehow or another, there's a sense of quiet observation there - curiosity, as he holds Keith’s stare for a second longer until- 

 _WHAM_  

Keith’s head jerks violently to the side. The sudden impact of Hunk’s foot to his jaw catches him entirely off guard, pain blossoming at the point and stars prickling up in his vision for a split second as everything comes crashing to a halt around him. 

He missed it. He missed the dodge. 

“HOLY-!” Hunk’s frantic voice powers through to the forefront like nothing. “OH MAN ARE YOU OKAY?” 

He’s right up in his space in no time, fussing over him as Keith slowly opens and closes his mouth, a hand up to his jaw to check for any telltale clicking of bone. “M’fine...” he mutters through it. 

But Hunk isn't convinced. “Lemme go get you an ice pack or something! Holy crap I'm the worst teammate in the world-” 

“ _Hunk."_  The pain in his jaw is already starting to fade - more of a shock than anything. Now he just has to wait for his pride to heal too. “Stop. It was me - you're fine.” Because seriously. How stupid  _is_ Keith? Getting distracted during any sort of training, let alone combat training… 

 What's worse is he can feel Lance watching him now from across the room, his and Pidge’s rhythm stopping with the rest of them. And Keith knows he must realize this happened because of him - because Keith was looking and getting distracted and  _ugh_ … 

“Maybe you should take five.” Shiro’s joined Hunk at his side, pulling Keith back into the here and now. 

“No.” 

“You just took a kick to the hea-” 

 “I said I’m fine.” Keith can feel his blood boiling. Aggravation. Embarrassment, mostly. “Let's just keep going.” 

Shiro is giving him that ‘worried friend/leader’ look but Keith can't find it in his heart to be swayed, his frown remaining firmly in place. It must be obvious enough, because eventually Shiro shrugs in good nature and decides to redirect. “Whatever you say. Why don't we at least switch partners then.” 

Hunk nods at his side, visibly relieved, but Keith can already feel the pit in his stomach returning with the orders. A quick peek at Lance shows he’s not the only one. 

But… “Fine.” Because he's already made an ass of himself. It's not really like he can protest when he's singlehandedly brought training to a screeching halt within a matter of five minutes. 

“Okay. Everyone start back up again. And  _focus_.” 

The last bit isn’t supposed to be a direct insult but it lands like one, Keith’s shoulders tensing as stretches his jaw and begrudgingly makes his way over to where Lance is standing - all awkward side-glances and arms crossed against his chest. 

This is gonna be  _something._  

“Hey.” 

“...hey.” 

And then they move. No teasing from Lance. No eyerolling from Keith. They just... _start_. 

It’s very stiff. Very awkward. Made even more uncomfortable by the short time between now and their last questionable interaction during the resource retrieval. But Keith has to focus. He can’t think about that right now. Can’t think about how quickly and out of nowhere he had gone from annoyed to flustered - from flustered to aroused - from aroused to desperate. And he especially can’t think about how just as affected Lance was, mouth dropped open under him as they moved so quickly against each other. 

Keith clears his throat, his heartbeat far too quick for their half-assed hand-to-hand combat training. Everything’s fine. What’s done is done. They can ignore it and move on like it never happened. 

Except. 

Lance packs a little more power behind his punch, the pink in his cheeks flushing down to his neck as Keith meets it and grips his fingers around Lance’s fist. It’s technically not the combo - not the drill - so Keith isn’t really all that sure why he does it. But Lance works with it, eyebrows coming together in concentration as he pulls out of the hold and punches again with his other hand. 

Keith catches it just as easily. Hears Lance’s breathy grunt. Shakes his head as his brain connects it to the sounds he was making under him in the cave. Because this is not the same. He may be warm and sweating and worked up far more than Pidge and Hunk and Shiro, but this is not the same. There’s no reason for the curl of  _something_ unfolding in his gut - for the breath coming from his open mouth to be so heavy - for the ridiculously  _normal_ sensation of Lance’s fist in his hand to be setting off points of confusing interest in his body. There’s no fucking  _reason_. But as Lance goes in for the next punch, Keith snaps, catching his fist and using it to twist him around until he’s pinned against him, bent face-down toward the floor and his arm locked between his back and Keith’s chest and Keith freezes because Lance is warm too - way way  _way_ too warm - and he can feel Lance’s heavy breaths and smell the shampoo from his damp hair and it’s just too fucking  _much-_  

He drops his hold, Lance staggering to keep his balance as Keith backs away quickly. “I’m taking that five,” he hears himself say to maybe Shiro but who knows because he’s already halfway out the door, then halfway down the hall, then halfway to the closest shower bay because he’s  _hot_. So fucking hot. And he can feel the sweat dripping down his back and his chest all the way up until he drowns himself under the coldest shower setting he can manage, eyes squeezed shut and water just barely cutting the heat and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it until it’s already happening - his hand running down his wet stomach and working around his dick because he’s so hard it’s almost painful. He grits his teeth and jerks himself off and tries tries  _tries_ not to think about Lance but it’s a losing battle, inhibitions washed away by the shower’s cold spray and the way he collapses in on himself by his third orgasm. 

  

 __-_-__  

  

Keith goes missing the rest of the day. By design. He’s tired and grumpy and doesn’t want to deal with space things if it’s not a matter of life or death so...he goes missing. For a while at least.  

It’s the cheery series of knocks on his door that shake him from his thoughts, and he’s already completely decided on ignoring it until he hears Hunk’s voice on the other side, just as cheery but laced with a slight guiltiness that Keith expects. And he’s always kinda had a hard time saying no to Hunk anyway, so. 

“There he is!” Hunk greets him when his door slides open, a smile on his face and a plate of something doughy and red in his hand. “Hey man, just came to drop this off and see how you were doing.” 

Keith inspects the plate of food without moving, his stomach gurgling expectantly. “What is that?” 

“Oh it’s...closest I could get to cake with the weird ingredients we have,” Hunk explains, then his smile slips into something more sheepish as he holds it up a little closer. “Kind of a ‘hey sorry for kicking you in the face today’ apology cake, I guess.” 

So the slight purple taking over Keith’s jawline hasn’t gone unnoticed. Still - “You didn’t have to do that.” - he’s never been very good at accepting gifts. 

“True. But you skipped dinner and I wanted to anyway, so...here.” 

The small red cake is thrust further into Keith’s space, and it’s impossible to deny his stomach grumbling when it’s this loud, so he hesitantly takes it from Hunk, noting the look of pleasant relief on his face when he does so. “Thanks…” 

“Yep!” Hunk dusts his hands off on his pants and then rubs them together in front of himself as he turns. “And now to go check on Lance. Talk about your fair share of damage control for one day...” 

“What?” 

Hunk turns, looking back at him from down the hall as Keith sticks his head out the door. “Sorry?” 

“You said-...” Keith pauses for a second, surprised by his own interest, but then continues. “You said something’s wrong with Lance.” 

“Oh. Yeah he bailed on training a few minutes after you did today.” 

He...did? “Oh.” 

“Yep.” 

“Why?” 

“Dunno. That’s why I’m checking on him.” 

Keith lets that sink in, gaze dropping as his mind once again sets into motion. 

“Enjoy the cake!” Hunk says some nondescript amount of time later. 

And Keith just nods, “Yeah…” Hunk disappearing around the corner in his peripheral as he stands there. “Thanks…”  

 

* * *

 

   

Several days pass. 

Several missions are completed. 

Several times Keith and Lance are around each other but don’t really interact. 

Several times Keith thinks he’s finally free - in the clear - until he’s filling out a report in the empty common area one night, blue light from the holoscreen in his hand illuminating his face when he feels it roll around again...first a dull wave of warmth - vague and hazy and blunted until it swells into something more noticeable, the words of his report fighting for attention against the growing intensity of the heat curling low in his stomach. 

He rubs the back of his hand across his forehead and keeps working...ties his hair up in a ponytail and finishes his sentence...does his best to try and pretend it isn’t happening again even though it’s becoming harder and harder to deny it.  

But maybe if he just concentrates on his report. Maybe if he just doesn’t fucking  _give in_. 

Keith clears his throat as he wipes the sweat from his brow again, squirming in his seat and biting down the bizarre urge to touch himself when the material of his pants brushes over where he’s still trying to deny he’s hard. 

He’s fine. 

He’s fine he’s fine he’s fine. 

He didn't even do anything to start this - isn't even thinking of anything except his report. There’s no reason for it to be happening so therefore it isn’t and he’s  _fine_. 

The next wave of heat has his eyes falling shut without his permission, the holoscreen falling out of his hand and landing somewhere on the couch, his report forgotten. 

He’s not fine.  

 

* * *

  
There’s something wrong.  

Seriously Wrong™. 

It happens again, once when they’re done with a supplies stop and once when, honestly, Keith is thinking about the whole cavern thing again. And he wouldn’t be as concerned if it was just a little thing - if it was a  _normal_ amount of arousal. But this is not normal. This is not getting a little turned on and needing to take care of yourself in the shower really quick. This is all-encompassing. Desperate. This is Keith finding himself so uncontrollably horny that he’s embarrassed to even be around himself. It’s not  _normal_. And he’s had it up to here. 

“So we’re just gonna pretend like what happened never happened?” 

Lance looks up at him, his next spoonful of space goo freezing before reaching his mouth. 

And...okay, like most situations, Keith could’ve been a lot less aggressive with this - could’ve not cornered Lance in the kitchen during his well known late-night snack. But he’s aggravated and tired of not being in control of his body and it’s just  _time._  

Lance continues to stare, mumbling around his mouthful. “Whatchyou mean?” 

It’s almost as irritating as this whole stupid problem. “Seriously?” Because there’s no way Lance could  _actually_ get over randomly hooking up with a self-proclaimed rival on an alien planet. Keith takes a breath. Steadies himself. Being an asshole won’t get him anywhere. “Don’t make me say it.” 

His change in tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and as Lance swallows his mouthful, his gaze doesn’t quite meet Keith’s. “I-... I mean, I thought you didn’t want to talk about it, so…” 

“...’so’?” 

“So I wasn’t gonna bring it up.” Lance’s spoon clatters as it drops back into his bowl. 

And Keith guesses he realizes how weirdly he’s been acting lately - has definitely given off the vibe that he doesn’t want to talk about what happened. But- 

“Have you-...” Lance stops right as he starts, brow furrowing as he searches for the right words and then tries again. “Have you felt, like... _different_ or anything lately?” 

It’s said with an amount of sincerity that both catches Keith’s attention and keeps it, a frown making its way across his face. How’d he know? Is Keith that obvious? With the way he acted and then ran off during combat training, he guesses it’d be hard to miss, but… “Why?” ...his pride. 

“Have you?” 

“Have  _you_?” It’s a defensive tactic, putting it all on Lance even though they’re talking about- 

“Yeah, actually.” 

Keith’s heart drops, confusion creeping. “Wait-...what?” 

The chair’s legs screech against the floor as Lance pushes out from the table, turning from Keith to put his bowl and spoon in the kitchen’s dishwasher. “It’s weird. Forget it.” 

“No.” Keith’s moving forward without realizing it, hanging onto Lance’s words like they’ll give him an answer to what’s been happening lately. “Tell me.” 

Lance’s body language tightens up for a brief second - a rare moment of discomfort in his own skin - and then he simply laughs it off, shaking his head. “I’m telling you, it’s weird.” 

“It’s like the cave, right?” 

When Lance turns, his own surprise clear on his face, Keith is very close, prompting even more surprise as he looks down at him. “It’s-...yeah, how did you-” 

“Me too.” Keith doesn’t know why he’s reacting this way, why he’s so close or so hooked, practically pinning Lance to the edge of the counter. The promise of answers? The relief of knowing he isn’t the only one? “I’m- it’s happening to me too.” 

“Wait, seriously?” 

“Yes.” 

Keith is close enough to see the process of what’s being discussed register through Lance’s brain, his eyes narrowing and then widening and then settling into something mostly in between. “So that day Hunk kicked the shit out of you…?"  

“Yes.” 

“And after the supplies stop-” 

“ _Yes._ ” 

“And-” 

“ _Y_ _es_ , Lance.” 

A whole bunch of epiphanies must be going off in Lance’s head. He leans back against the counter before looking back down at Keith, and there’s no hiding the redness starting to creep into his cheeks. “So what you’re telling me...is you’ve been just as stupidly horny as I was all those times?” 

The outright bluntness of how he says it hits Keith, and suddenly he realizes just how closely he’s standing. He backs up as calmly as possible in an attempt to give off the impression that he’s not as flustered as he actually is, not sure if he does a good enough job. “It’s connected somehow."  

“That’s...the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard.” 

“Well it’s happening.” 

Lance’s chuckle is ironic. “It sure is.” 

The space between them continues to grow as Keith moves farther away to satisfy his need for calmness. This is  _definitely_ weird. Definitely definitely. And...now what...exactly? 

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you blush before.” 

Keith bristles at the comment, their relationship returning right back to its normal state of things just like that. “Shut up,” he huffs, unable to deny the heat in his face as he backs up clear out of the kitchen. 

  

_-_-_ 

  

It’s nearly midnight Earth-time when Keith gets back to his room, but that doesn’t stop him from staring up at the dark ceiling for hours as his brain spins in every direction imaginable. 

So...he’s not alone in this. Lance has had something Seriously Wrong™ with him all this time too. Keith doesn’t know if that knowledge helps him or make this worse. On one hand, he guesses it’s kind of nice to know he isn’t the only one suffering. On the other hand, the last thing he needs is to be flooded with the related  _t_ _houghts_ of Lance suffering - the  _images_. 

For every time Keith is drenched in sweat, fighting back the need to give in, Lance is somewhere doing the same thing, or even  _worse_...holed up so he can take care of himself. 

For every time Keith is jerking off, two-or-three-fingers-deep in his ass, Lance is somewhere realizing that whatever is Seriously Wrong™ with them is also thoughtful enough to activate their weirdly slick wetness of self-lubrication. (That had thrown Keith for a fucking  _loop_ the first time he felt it, let that be known.)  

And now, three hours after their discussion on simultaneous arousal, Keith is stuck staring up at the ceiling, unable to fight down the buzz of liquid warmth blossoming in his chest and between his legs. Because that means it’s happening to Lance too, wherever he is - probably his room. Is he touching himself? Is he already done? Is he thinking about the fact that Keith is like this too, or is it just Keith who’s fucked up enough to wonder? 

Keith groans, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids. His bed sheets are too much for how sensitive his skin is right now so he kicks them off, his bed creaking in the process. And all he wants to do is touch himself. Which is fine, right? It’s not like there’s some unwritten rule now saying that just because Lance knows, he can’t touch himself, right? 

Keith lets out a heavy, heated sigh, dragging a hand from his face all the way down his chest...his stomach...beneath the waistband of his briefs until he can softly palm himself. 

He hisses an inhale, the touch barely there but still enough to pull a reaction. And he’s ready to do it again when there’s the distinct sound of knocking on his door. 

Keith freezes, eyes opening and hand still down the front of his briefs.  

What the fuck… 

Another knock. 

How... 

Another, and then, whispered: “ _Keith_ …” 

Something in his mind knows it couldn’t be anyone  _other_ than Lance, but it doesn’t make his dick twitch in his hand any less. 

 _“Keith...I know you’re up.”_  

Fuck. What does he do?   

The bed creaks under him again as Keith sits up, torn between pretending he can’t hear Lance and actually opening the door. Seconds tick by, Keith’s brain hazy with the lust that's already there, and the rest that comes with the thoughts swirling unhelpfully. 

The sound of a body leaning up against the metal of the door has Keith moving, bypassing his shirt on the floor in order to unlock and slide open his door just a crack. The weight against it lightens, Lance obviously picking himself up from it as it moves, and then turning to face Keith once it’s wide open. 

Keith’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight of him in the low light, his shirt wrinkled and eyes dark and lips parted as he runs a hand through his hair when he sees Keith. 

“Ohhh fuck…” Lance mutters weakly, clearly trying to steady himself as his eyes trail down Keith’s bare chest - his messy hair - the very very  _obvious_ hard-on tenting the front of his briefs.    

And if Keith thought he was warm before, his whole entire body is on fucking  _fire_ now. 

He grabs Lance by the front of his shirt and pulls him into his room before anyone can see, closing the door behind him and then letting him slump there as he tries to calm the waves of heat rolling through him. 

“What?” he says, although the breathlessness of his voice takes most of the edge off. 

Lance peers down at him through heavy eyelids, hands fisting in self control at his sides. “I was-…” And his voice is deep -  _very_ deep - the kind of deep that only creeps around when someone’s trying to stop themselves from making a bad decision. 

Keith knows the feeling, fingers itching to touch what is already so close. “You were what…?” 

“Checking if...you were messing with me…” his voice peters out at the end as he slowly looks Keith up and down again, “...or...if we were the same.” 

“I think it’s pretty obvious…” 

Because they’re both here. They’re both here and they’re both at their limit and Keith knows what he wants to happen - doesn’t know if he would necessarily condone it under other circumstances but these are  _not_ other circumstances. This is Lance  _here,_ swallowing roughly and hands still fists but weakening very much like his resolve - like Keith’s resolve. And Lance isn’t saying anything, so Keith accepts that he takes a step forward on autopilot, chests nearly touching. 

He flinches as Lance reaches up, his pointer finger brushing over the bruising still lingering on jawline. One finger, then another, and it stings but Keith finds himself leaning into it regardless, touch-starved enough that he’ll deal with the pain. 

“We sh-” He doesn’t know who moves in first, but the space evaporates between them with hot breath and slick lips, and it doesn’t really matter who does it because Lance’s mouth is moving against his, needy and sloppy and just like the last time. 

And suddenly Keith feels like he’s right back in the cave, the glowing red crystals replaced by the dull blue glow of the holoscreen on his desk. But Lance is the same. Keith is the same. The heat pooling and desire building upon itself and desperate  _desperate_ need to touch is the same. Only this time they can touch it and  _feel_ , no thick material of their paladin suits in their way. Which means Keith can feel it when Lance runs his hands down his bare back and then lets them rest on his ass, pulling him flush against himself and then up a bit as he squeezes. 

Keith’s grip on Lance’s shirt tightens - dangerous - already so dangerous. They shouldn’t be doing this. It had happened once and it was an outlying happenstance but  _this_. This is not. Lance palming his ass through his boxers and Keith backing them up to the side of his bed is not coincidental. He knows he’s doing it. Knows his knees are going to give out soon. Knows that there’s no fucking way he can make it with the way Lance crawls on top of him as his back hits the mattress, face flushed. 

Keith pulls at Lance’s shirt, sitting up with him as they work together to get it up over his shoulders. It lands somewhere by the foot of the bed and Keith barely gets enough time to appreciate his work before Lance’s got a hand on his chest and is  _pushing,_ Keith’s back hitting the mattress for the second time. But it’s hot. Lance is hot. And Lance being rough is unexpectedly but insanely hot. 

“Jesus…” Keith breathes out in a heated combination of that and how their bodies slot together to get a sinfully tight friction working between them. It’s better than shamefully jerking off by himself. So much fucking better. 

“ _Yeah_ it is,” Lance mumbles into the side of his neck, and that’s when Keith realizes he said that last part out loud. 

The heat’s clearly getting to him. The heavy grinding.  _Fuck,_ is it getting to him. It blurs things around him until all he can focus on is the thick arousal swirling in his stomach and between his legs - the sweat glistening across Lance’s dark skin - the wetness starting to get uncomfortable where Lance had grabbed his ass what could’ve been minutes or hours ago. And he  _needs_. He needs like he never has before. 

Keith pitches forward until he’s coming down on top of Lance, confused but not complaining when he realizes their pants are gone. The grunt of frustration that Lance lets out is quickly added to the list of things that Keith is surprised he finds attractive, but soon forgotten under the feeling of fingers gripping at his ass again, then something sliding slickly between his cheeks. 

Keith’s head drops forward, his forehead slipping against Lance’s chest but coming to rest there anyway as the realization hits him. Is he-...is Lance gonna fuck him? 

He moves his hips in time with him encouragingly, the head of Lance’s dick sliding past his asshole too many times to count before the frustration sets in, Keith digging his fingers into whatever skin he can get. 

“Lance.” 

“Can-...I put it in-” 

“Yeah-” 

“It’s okay?” 

Keith groans - “Just fucking do it.” - stretching be damned, because it hasn’t been several days since the cavern but he’s burning like he’s needed this for much longer. And he knows Lance must be too, so when he finally feels it, the head of Lance's dick pressing against him and then sliding inside him with the help of the slickness already there, every muscle in Keith’s entire body tenses like he’s being shocked from the toes up. 

But then Lance starts moving. And then it’s more haze. More sticky wetness and pleasure points detonating in different parts of Keith’s body and  _fuck_ he can’t tell up from down - can’t tell where his hands are going or where Lance’s hands are going and it’s like the room is flipping out from under him when he feels the mattress against his back again, Lance pressing against him and fucking into him and it almost feels like he’s that dangerous step away from being blackout drunk, Lance’s name on his lips and the heat in his gut pooling and swirling and then he’s grabbing whatever he can - holding onto whatever he can get his hands on, his back arching and Lance’s voice sliding into his brain as they both come and- 

And- 

...and… 

It’s dark when his eyes open. 

As dark as it was before. 

But the bed sheets are over him and the heat is missing and he sits up a little too fast to find that Lance is gone. 

The clock on his nightstand reads 4:52 Earth-time. 

He had passed out. 

And Lance is gone. 

 

* * *

 


	2. Wave Two

Keith can't freak out. The last thing he can do is freak out right now. Yes, he and Lance slept together again. But they're both adults. They can both recognize when a situation is out of their control and how to accept it and move on. 

Except...jesus christ it's Lance.  _Lance_  Lance. The same Lance who just last week broke out into interpretive dance to the castle's malfunctioning beeping just to get Hunk to laugh. The same Lance that claims he's got the moves to seduce any alien, humanoid or otherwise, that they could ever come in contact with.  _That_  Lance. 

And...okay, that's not to say that he isn't as attractive as he likes to boast. Keith would never actually admit it to him (and hopes no one else would ever be so stupid as to let him know he's right), but still, he could be the hottest person in the galaxy and still get on Keith's nerves with the way he's constantly talking - how he can't possibly sit the fuck still for three minutes. 

So this is...this is not ideal. Get off with him once in an abandoned cave? Alright. Fine. Make the conscious effort to sleep with him again in Keith's own bed? It's gonna take some getting used to. And Keith'll be damned if he's going to suffer through their pussyfooting around again. Not after this. So when he stalks into the common area, eyes zeroing in on where Lance is hanging his head upside down on the couch as Pidge types away on their laptop a few feet away, his tone is sharp. 

"Lance. C'mere." 

Lance's hair has fallen past his forehead, gravity giving Keith a clear view of how his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he tips his head further back to make eye contact. "What? Why me?" 

"Just come here." 

"Can't you get Shiro to do whatever you want?" 

"I need to talk to you." 

That does a good job at turning his surprise into something guarded - unsure. 

Pidge speaks before he can, "Ominous..." tone flat and their glasses glared by the glowing screen in their lap. 

Keith crosses his arms and waits, trying to read the expressions flashing through Lance's upside down face, but not doing a very good job until he's rightside up again, because that's when it falls into a familiar smirk. 

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you came to me for hair pointers," he smiles, making his way over to where Keith is still waiting patiently before following him out the door. 

This particular hallway is quiet, guarded even from Pidge's incessant keyboard tapping, and it gives them enough privacy for Keith to finally turn and say: "Alright. I'm not looking for hair pointers." 

Lance snorts. "Uh yeah, that's obvious. Can't say I hope you won't reconsider, though." 

It's an insult and Keith purposefully ignores it in order to address the matter at hand. "You know what this is actually about." 

"Couple things come to mind, yeah." They turn the corner, heading off into some unknown direction to ensure their privacy. "Actually I was expecting you to shove me into the airlock or something. But I'll definitely take an awkward stroll around the ol' castle over certain death any day." 

Keith steadies himself - guesses he understands Lance's thinking. If he were Lance, there's no doubt in his mind that Keith would be coming for blood. But. "It's not a big deal," he says, and then glances over to Lance for affirmation, "...right?" 

Lance meets his eyes, gears turning. "You're asking me if being struck with random bursts of unbearable horniness isn't a big deal?" 

And that's-...jesus, he can be blunt sometimes. "No." 

"What are you asking then?" 

"I'm saying..." Now presented with the task of being more specific, Keith finds the words tripping up on his tongue. "What we did...before and last night. It's not a big deal if we don't make it one, yeah?" 

Lance nods in understanding then, turning his attention back in front of him and shrugging as he dips his hands in his pockets. "I mean...I wouldn't have a problem with it if it happened again. It's like you said. Definitely better than the alternative." His suggestion is much... _more_  than Keith was looking for, and it's obvious in the way that Keith's voice gets caught in his throat, Lance glancing over to realize what he's done. "Mm. Take it that's not what you meant." 

Keith clears his throat. "Not really." 

"But?" 

"But." But what? They just hook up every time the urge rolls around and the timing's right? It becomes a 'thing'? Is that what Lance is suggesting? "I...guess I don't see a huge problem with it either. In moderation," he tacks on, not entirely sure if this conversation is going the way he initially aimed for. 

"Well alrighty," Lance sighs either way. And as they round the corner, the creeping reality of a brand new hallway settles over them as they stop in their tracks, his voice bouncing off the unfamiliar metal walls. "Okay. I have no idea where the fuck we are."   

 

* * *

 

Unlike his pride, Keith's jaw has fully healed, the purple bruising disappearing and no longer bringing attention to itself during meetings with diplomats from other planets. That's not to say, however, that Keith doesn't do a good enough job drawing attention to himself on his own. Just yesterday he backed up into a holy statue carved from stone, nearly sending it and the planet's hyper-religious population toppling to its doom. And today, oh  _today_... 

Listen, the issue with communicating with people from other planets is the severe lack of knowledge around their specific cultural customs. For instance, did you know it's astronomically insulting to sneeze in front of a Kreon royal family? Because Keith sure didn't. And now he's been banished by Shiro to take a timeout in an adjacent room while he tries to smooth things over on his behalf. 

But hey, if Shiro wants to take that upon himself, Keith is all for it. He could use a breather anyway, lazing back against the furry couch/bench that he had thought was an animal for the longest time until striking up the courage to touch it. 

The music and foreign chatter that filters in from the main room is almost a calming backdrop for his thoughts, interrupted only by the sound of shuffling and a sudden presence entering the room. 

He peeks out one eye, oddly satisfied at the sight of Lance stomping in, arms crossed and mumbling to himself as he takes a brisk seat across from him. "Stupid." 

So Keith's not the only one fucking up tonight. "You too?" 

"This planet sucks." 

True. "What'd _you_  do?" 

Lance rolls his eyes but uncrosses his arms, opting instead to prop his chin up with his hand, grumbling all the way. "Thought one of the elders was a kid and tried to pick him up." 

Oh. The mental image of that is great - especially him and Shiro trying to backpedal once the deed was done. It's enough to bring a small, amused smile to Keith's lips. "I'm almost upset I missed that." 

Lance must hear it, because his eyes flick over to him, his frown vanishing and a smirk playing across his own as he jumps at the opportunity. "And miss out on your party-for-one in here? Yeah right." He gestures vaguely around the room as he continues. "You know this is totally Shiro's version of 'stay in the car, naughty children', right?" 

"Well we're disappointing kids." 

"Embarrassing." 

"The worst." 

"No stop at Dairy Queen on the ride back to the castle." 

A chuckle bubbles up and escapes before Keith can rein it back in, his self consciousness rearing its ugly head just like that. Because, honestly...it's been a while. Too long, probably. 

His gaze drops toward the strange texture of the floor to avoid whatever look Lance is no doubt giving him. Expected silence floats between them for a beat, and when he finally looks back up, there's a split second of eye contact before Lance diverts it to clear his throat and examine the furry upholstery of the seat. 

Weird. 

"Stupid customs..." Pidge's grumbling joins the moment then, sneakers making a bizarre sound as they stomp into the room with a frown. "How was I supposed to know..." 

Keith and Lance break their touching moment to share a knowing look, and then welcome the newest addition into the timeout room, asking at the same time: "What'd you do?" 

Pidge just frowns. "I don't wanna talk about it." 

  

_-_-_ 

  

They end up leaving very quickly, Shiro sticking his head in and telling them they have to leave  _right now_  because apparently he ended up fucking up the hardest out of all of them, leaving Hunk as the only one who had his shit together for the night. 

So they gather up into the safety of the castle and liftoff without discussion, and pretty soon, Kreon and the paladins' handful of social faux pas are nothing but a tiny pinprick in the universe. 

Keith uses the free time to retreat into Shiro's room, stretched out lazily on his bed while Shiro leans up against the side of it, the ball that he's absentmindedly tossing around  hitting off the opposite wall and then back into his hand. It's reminiscent of their Garrison days, and Keith has to say there's nothing quite as calming and securing as being a total lazy-ass as Shiro bounces ideas off of him. 

They've just finished toying around with the idea of using the simulation room to practice the intricacies of interstellar interactions when Shiro launches into another topic, tone tired but curious. 

"Lance's been kind of off lately, hasn't he." 

Keith pauses, then buries his head deeper into Shiro's pillow because he's spoiled. "Has he?" 

"You haven't noticed?" He throws the ball with his metal hand, catching it when it comes back around again with his human one. "Maybe I'm seeing things." 

"Maybe." 

Keith leaves it at that, letting his eyes close because he's exhausted from having to interact with important people today. (And fucking it up royally.) 

"I wonder if something's up..." 

Okay. Maybe they're  _not_  done. 

Shiro's persistence pushes Keith to curl up in an attempt to combat saying something stupid with movement. Because he can't exactly discuss the reasoning behind Lance's behavior lately - behind his own - without getting into some pretty scandalous details. 

And just like that, as if the heavens have a personal vendetta against him, the familiar swirl of heat blooms in his stomach. Awesome. Fucking great. "He's fine." 

"Yeah?" The ball collides with the metal wall, Shiro's bed moving a little as he reaches up to meet where it's ricocheted in his direction. "You talk to him about it?" 

And he's not proud of it - let it be known that Keith hates lying to Shiro - but it's in everyone's best interest for this conversation to end, especially with the way his skin is starting to prickle into that oversensitive sheen, so: "Yep. S'all fine." 

"Oh. Well that's one less thing, at least." 

Keith sits up, already knowing where his body is trying to get this to go as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, his plan only momentarily foiled by the ball hitting off the corner of the room and flying over to bounce squarely off his chest. "Ow." 

"Sorry." Shiro turns, tired but still considerate. "Y'alright?" 

And no, not technically. Technically Keith's body temperature is skyrocketing as they speak, his pulse quickening just as fast. But he can't exactly say that so he goes with: "Yeah. Gonna sleep..." dropping the ball back into Shiro's hand and then heading for the door. 

Shiro mumbles some kind of farewell before the door closes behind Keith, who knows he only has enough time to get to his room and not the showers before this all flies off the handle. But he makes it. Just enough time to lock himself in and strip. Just enough time to collapse onto his bed and work through the heat, back arching and questionable pleasure rolling through him. The awkward shame is still there after, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling and runs a hand through his sweaty bangs. He's not sure if that part's ever going to go away. All he can do is accept that it's happened, pick himself up, and shower himself off. And that's just what he intends to do. 

  

_-_-_ 

  

One of the showers is already running when he reaches the bay, dull aggravation stemming in Keith's brain. No privacy, then. Well...he guesses it's not totally essential. 

A mop of wet brown hair comes into view as he turns the corner into the tiled room, steam dissolving just enough for the mystery showerer to be revealed. Keith presses forward, not sure if Lance's presence is validating or worthy of cropping up more shame. It doesn't help that he for some reason decides on the shower stall right next to him, pulling the towel from around his waist and welcoming the warm water as it cascades down his body. But he lets it soak in. Closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. 

"Well well...fancy meeting  _you_  here." 

Lance is watching him with half a smirk when Keith looks over, the partition between the stalls falling just below the breastbone. 

"You come here often, short stuff?" 

"Do I shower often?" Keith finds himself dripping with sarcasm. "Yes." It might be because he's a little embarrassed, this certainly not being the first occasion they've ever been in the showers at the same time, but the reality of why they're both here a little more difficult to swallow. 

He pours soap into the palm of his hand, the scent of it taking over the otherwise very telling scents of sweat and other things he doesn't really want to think about right now. 

"Where were you?" Lance asks, hands scrubbing through his hair and tired eyes forward. 

Keith spreads the soap down his front. "When?" 

"'When'..." his chuckle is forced. Even Keith can tell. "When it went down, dude." 

Oh. "Uh...Shiro's room." 

Lance's scrubbing falters, voice sincere. "Oh.  _D_ _amn_." 

"Mm." 

"Did he know?" 

"I left before it got bad - I'm not stupid." He bites it. Again with the attitude. 

But Lance just shrugs and returns to lathering the soap in his hair. "Didn't say you were." 

Heavy silence blankets over them with the steam, the slick noises of skin on skin almost enough to reignite the residual fire in his veins if Keith wasn't so exhausted. And...being such an asshole. 

"What about you?" He finally asks in an attempt to remain civil, moving onto his hair as well but keeping his focus straight ahead. "Where were you?" 

"Uuum... On my way back from asking Allura something. Couldn't've happened at a better time, actually." Lance turns the water off with a squeak of the knob, back muscles flexing as he grabs for where his towel is hanging. "Come to think of it, I was around Shiro's room when it started in." 

Keith watches the soap suds swirl into the drain between his feet, Lance's comment pulling his brain in six different directions at once. "Weird." 

"Totally weird," Lance agrees, rubbing the towel over his face before tucking it around himself. Then he leans his head in Keith's direction, voice dropping into something lower when he says it. "Missed opportunity, too." 

It has Keith's interest caught, so much so that he's not sure if he would be saying anything productive if he tried to open his mouth. 

But Lance saves him - for the moment - because he leans back and then runs a hand through his hair, messing it as he shrugs, "Maybe next time," and then heads toward the door, leaving a splotchy wet trail in his path. 

Keith refuses to acknowledge the interest beginning to swirl low in his belly again. 

   

* * *

 

It's very very early when Allura uses the intercom to wake them all up. 

5:00 Earth-time, to be exact. 

Keith almost beats Shiro to the debriefing room - misses it by just a hair and gets the proper amount of shit for it because Shiro knows it's a personal goal and isn't above teasing his best friend. 

In the ten minutes they wait around for Hunk and Lance to haul their asses out of bed, Coran fills them in on nonessential updates: what resources the castle's running low on...what planet they'll be making contact with next in order to establish allies...etc. Keith listens with half of his attention, the other half off somewhere else entirely until the doors slide open and Hunk and Lance make their first appearance for the day. 

Hunk is in his suit but still has his slippers on. 

Lance appears as inconvenienced by the wake-up call as anyone with the usual morning schedule of waking up at ten would be. 

Allura must choose not to fight that particular battle today - a show of restraint that Keith knows he could learn from - and simply informs them all on the schedule of their training day. 

Nice and easy. All laid out. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

  

_-_-_ 

  

They form Voltron right away, each member coming in tight and assembling, and it's great to finally be able to do this on command but something's different. Something's wrong. There's a shakiness to it - a rift where there should be solid connection. Keith feels it and assumes everyone else does too but doesn't say anything, leaving it to Shiro to bring up if he wants. 

They zoom past the castle on target, gearing up for the attack drills that Allura wants them to run as the stretch of empty field that they use as their training ground comes into sight. 

 _"Alright,"_  Shiro says through the earpieces,  _"Let's ease in slow. Keith, activate the sword."_  

"Got it," the red paladin confirms, brandishing his bayard and locking it into the slot next to him before turning it - or, more accurately, attempting to turn it. But it feels jammed, the white lights around it remaining deactivated. He pulls his bayard out and tries again, giving a twist but getting nowhere. 

 _"Keith."_  

"Trying," he answers, doing his best to sound like he knows what he's doing. Because he does. He does know what he's doing. He's activated this stupid sword plenty of times before. "I don't-...it must be malfunctioning." 

 _"Not possible,"_  Coran's voice sneaks in then, and it's helpful to everyone but Keith. _"The connections between the lions and the corresponding bayards are foolproof. Only a disconnect with the paladin can cause it not to work."_  

Keith huffs. 

Shiro's back without missing a beat. _"Try it again."_  

"I am." 

 _"Focus."_  

"I  _am_." 

 _"This just in..."_  Lance's voice is next, coming over the comms like an unwanted newscaster.  _"The mighty paladin of the_ _red_ _lion_ _suffers from performance issues."_  

Keith bristles, his grip around the bayard tightening angrily. "Shut  _up_ , Lance. You're not helping." 

Shiro cuts in.  _"And you're not focusing."_  

"Then tell Lance to shut the fuck up!" He's yelling now, frustration building up into something ugly. He's not disconnected. He's right here, listening to his lion and communicating with her and if he could just get three seconds to his goddamn self to  _think_ - 

 _"It's fine, we'll move onto something else-_ _"_  

"No! I have this!" 

 _"Keith. Take a breath. We're moving on."_  

Shiro's tone is stern. Commanding. Everything a leader should sound like and it pisses Keith off so much that he rips his bayard out of its slot, his last shred of self control keeping him from throwing it to the ground. 

Breathe. 

Just breathe. 

And stop being such a fucking asshole. 

Their landing in the far-stretching field is sloppy. Uneven. Hunk touches down first and Lance follows after but it's rocky. 

 _"Steady."_  Shiro's still stern.  _"Keep it smooth."_  

They haven't even gotten to the part of training they're supposed to be at. And how could they when Voltron's footing is rocking back and forth? 

 _"Lance."_  

 _"Dude, no offense but you're putting a lot of pressure on me here,"_  Hunk pipes up for the first time today. 

 _"Sorry Hunk, I'm trying,"_  Lance answers, but it's as uncertain as the footing. 

"Try harder," Keith grits out, his stomach starting into knots from the shaky balance. "You're a leg. Act like it." 

 _"Oh I'm sorry. Is this coming from the person who couldn't get his sword out a few minutes ago?"_  

"You don't keep a trillion ton robot from falling on its ass with a sword." 

 _"Yeah that's easy to say when all you have to do is wave yourself around every once in a while."_  

 _"Guys..."_  Shiro's starting in with his warning already. 

"Just keep us steady. We can't get anything done if we're eating shit." 

 _"You'd know. You already eat enough shit for all of us, Kogane."_  

 _"Guys!"_  

"We're gonna fall, you idiot! Keep us straight!" 

 _"How can you expect me to when you're BEING SUCH AN ASSHOLE!"_  

"LANCE-" 

On cue, Voltron's legs crumble under the pressure, the sky replacing itself with the ground as they plummet towards it in a pile of dust. Keith's neck jerks forward from the impact, his whole body one restraining device away from being bug guts on his lion's windshield. 

He groans as the dust settles, eyes blinking slowly. 

Shiro's voice comes through the comms. Ominously. 

 _"Return to base_ now _."_  

  

_-_-_ 

  

"Are you fucking stupid?" Keith is ripping off his helmet as soon as he sees Lance, their fiery paths drawing together just like he knew they would. "You could've killed us!" 

"Me? You're the one who was messing everything up with your bad vibes!" Lance's helmet's off now too, gripped in his hand as their chest pieces clank off of each other when they meet. "How are we supposed to get shit done when your attitude brings everyone down?" 

"Oh, so it's  _my_  fault that you couldn't hold us up?" 

"Yes! Yes, it's  _totally_  your fault!" 

"Listen-" 

"Hey!" Shiro's stalking towards them with determination, voice echoing off the hallway's high ceiling and his pace quickening when he sees the two of them gear up to throw punches. "HEY. ENOUGH." 

Keith and Lance stagger back when he pushes between them, physically stopped from coming back in only by the hands keeping them apart by their chest plates. 

"Enough," he repeats, authoritatively enough that Keith can't ignore it. "Both of you. Walk it off." 

Keith glares at Lance over Shiro's barrier, fire detonating in his chest. 

"Lance,  _that_  way," Shiro orders, nodding down one hallway, then the opposite direction for Keith, "You,  _that_  way." 

Lance keeps his glare, face red with anger. 

" _Now_." 

Keith jerks out of Shiro's hold and steps backward, not breaking the eye contact until Lance does the same. 

He huffs and turns to the hallway as ordered but knows this isn't over. There's no fucking way. Especially with the fire ebbing gradually from his chest down to his stomach - the air not enough to cool his slick skin as he charges forward not because it'll calm him down, but because Shiro told him to. Because it's expected of him. Because it's where he's supposed to be, so it's only a matter of time before the two hallways connect like they both know they will and Lance is coming at him, eyes sharp and dangerous. 

Keith picks up speed, their paladin suits clanking against each other again as he puts his hands out to meet Lance's chest plate, Lance jerking backward and letting Keith push push  _push_  until he's pushed him right up against the wall. 

He's already working on the back of Keith's suit by the time Keith's mouth is on him - straps and buttons and a whole ton of other shit that keeps them locked in but works against them now. But Lance gets him out of it. A miracle. A blessing. And he helps Keith get him out of his own and then it's far better because it's just their thin undershirts and leggings and before Keith knows what's happening he's being twisted around - his back slammed up against the wall instead - and the heat is pooling and he's so fucking hot and it's made even worse - or better - or whatever - when Lance pulls up one of Keith's legs and then holds it against his hip and rocks forward because it's unmistakable then. The friction. The slick slide of Lance's cock against his underneath their leggings. 

Keith can't help the noises. Bites down on Lance's neck. Curls his toes because the grip on the back of his thigh is almost so tight that it hurts but it's a good hurt. And it's a good burn. 

And he knows this isn't what Shiro had in mind when he told them to walk it off, but whatever is Seriously Wrong with them has other plans. 

And besides, Shiro doesn't have to know. 

  

_-_-_ 

  

Don't be mistaken. 

Keith and Lance are still mad at each other. It doesn't matter what happened in the hallway. Keith is still mad and Lance is still mad and they're both still mad as they sit on opposite couches and pretend not to notice each other. 

Hunk is muttering something quietly to Lance, who is answering with a stubborn "No." and " _No_." and " _No_ , dude." 

But technically Keith doesn't know that because technically he's ignoring him, his attention now drawing back to where Shiro is- oh. Shiro's looking at him. And he's got that annoyed/tired look that he has whenever this happens. 

"What?" Keith frowns, even though he already knows the answer. 

"Make up." Yep, that's what he thought it was. "For God's sake just make up." 

"No way-" 

"We both know you're not actually as mad as you're pretending to be." He's quick to cut off the scoff of defense that's on the tip of Keith's tongue. "You're not. You never are, and he isn't either. Now  _make. up_." 

He clips his words at the end, which is usually when Keith can tell he's had enough. And it's not like he wants to annoy him with this, it's just- 

"Hey." 

Keith startles slightly at the sudden sound of Lance's voice, both his and Shiro's eyes flicking up to meet the curious sight of him, arms crossed and clearly fighting back the urge to come across as anything but humble. 

He's doing a shit job at it. 

"Sorry," he mumbles on the end of a breath, eyes elsewhere. And Keith almost thinks he's going to leave it there until there's the distinct sound of Hunk clearing his throat from the couch behind him. "Sorry," he says again, clearer this time. Then, slowly: "...for...being mean." 

"And?" Hunk hums, smiling encouragingly when Lance turns around to shoot him a look. 

" _And_ ," he continues, pointed for Hunk's benefit until he faces back around again, "for making that performance issues joke." His hands drop to rest on his hips, a leg popping out almost sassily as he huffs. "You don't have performance issues. I guess." 

It's a sight to see. Almost funny. Maybe even a little...cute. 

The elbow to his rib has Keith focusing on the task at hand. "I-... It's fine. I guess." He knows he can't leave it at that. Not without risking another jab of Shiro's elbow. So: "Sorry too." 

Lance sniffs, pout barely in check. "S'fine." 

Hunk is up and moving without missing another beat, "Great!" his smile heartfelt as he pats Lance's shoulder on his way by. "One big happy family, look at that!" 

Shiro huffs out a little chuckle through his nose, shaking his head before getting up from his seat on the couch. 

And then they're both gone. 

And Keith looks at Lance.  

And Lance looks at Keith. 

And they both break off into opposite directions. 

   

* * *

 

10... 

   9... 

      8... 

       The chilled air in Keith's bedroom wafts over him in the darkness...his eyes closed but not tired. 

         7... 

            6... 

               5... 

                The numbers are smaller now but his brain is still restless, knowing better after being tricked this way for so many years. 

                   4... 

                     He takes a breath... 

                      3... 

                        Lets it out... 

                          2... 

                           Eases back...and then- 

 _"KEITH."_  

The jarring loudness of Lance's voice over his room intercom rips Keith clean out of the composure he had created, his muscles keyed up and body lurching forward and "JESUS CHRI-" 

 _"KEITH. COME IN, KEITH."_  

His scramble out of bed to get to the intercom panel is less than graceful, but when he makes it, he jams his pointer finger onto the 'outgoing' button, tone curt. "Have you lost your damn mind, Lance?" 

 _"Oh cool, you_ are _up!"_  

"I am  _now_." 

 _"Well good. Your gigantic fucking ego is needed in the control room."_  

Keith's fist clenches at his side in wary aggravation. "It's two o'clock in the morning." 

 _"True. Looks like you're not_ _sleepin'_ _though, so you might as well come down here."_  

As troublesome as his reasoning is, it's technically pretty accurate. And what, Keith would rather stay in his room and pretend like he can get to sleep?  

He sighs, finger pressing down onto the button. "Fine. Be there in a minute." 

  

_-_-_ 

  

The open windows of the control room always catch Keith's eye - the vast, sprawling panoramas of blackish-purpling space. Tonight as he makes his way across the room, they're slowly gliding by a dark blue planet, its atmosphere effervescent and almost sparkling. It casts more of a bluish tint onto Lance's face than the holoscreen in his lap does. 

"You're not supposed to be using the intercom," Keith drones quietly, alerting his presence to the other boy. "I heard Allura tell you not to." 

"Mm.  _Technically_  she said 'it'd be best' if I didn't." Lance's attention is focused on the screen. "Besides, I figured you'd wanna see this." 

"What?" 

" _This_." 

Keith rubs the vague traces of sleep from one of his eyes and then joins Lance where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking over the text lit up on the screen. "And this is..." 

"An ellicar flower." He drags his finger to scroll the text down. "I've been trying to figure out why we're so- like, how we got to be the way we've been lately. I mean something  _had_ to have started it, right? So I was thinking... What was weird about the planet we were on? And yeah, I know literally everything was, but...what was  _majorly_ weird?" 

Keith finds himself staring, Lance's eyes flicking up to his, and Keith's dropping down to the blue petals scrolling into view on the screen. Blue petals. "Those flowers." 

"Right." 

"And?" 

"And turns out that when their petals are disturbed, their spores act as some sort of crazy aphrodisiac that stays in the host's body even months after they've been inhaled." 

Keith's brow furrows, the information latching on. Then, alarmed: "Wait.  _Months?"_  

"Minimum." 

"But how is that possible? They were up on the wall. Someone would've had to-" The flashback happens just like that.  _The dark cave. Lance's fascination with the flowers. His finger slowly reaching up and gently-_  Keith's focus realigns, his head whipping toward him. "You!" 

Lance is quick to defend with a nervous smile. "Yeah, yeah, but listen-" 

"You're the one who touched it! It's your fucking fault we're like this-" 

"There's a way to counteract it! A neutralizer!" 

Keith's pulse is picking up in his veins, his temperature rising to a point that it shouldn't. He needs to calm down. Needs to breathe. " _What_ neutralizer?" 

The text is already being scrolled furiously down the page. "I-It's a-...it's a spring. Like a-...a magic spring-" 

"A  _magic spring_ _?"_  And fuck, he can feel his temper taking off again just like that. 

"I know it sounds crazy! But look, there's a 99.9% chance there's one in the same exact cave we were in last time. All the conditions are right. All we have to do is go back there, swim around in it a little, and then things should be back to normal." 

The stars whip around them past the windows, but Keith can't see them through the deep breath of calm he's halfway through, the telltale tingling in his fingertips unable to be ignored much longer. "Lance...I swear to god..." 

"We'll be fine," he reassures, the smile on his face not entirely honest. "It's gonna suck until we get back there, but then things will be normal again." 

"How do you know?" 

"I don't. Not 100%. But what else are we supposed to do?" 

Keith sighs. Rubs at his eye with the back of his hand. Tries to let that comfort him even though it's a losing battle. Especially with the heat in his stomach. 

So that's the plan, then. They deal with this Seriously Wrong™ aphrodisiac thing inside them as best they can until they can get back to that planet with the spring. Fine. It technically hasn't been  _that_ astronomically terrible so far. What could possibly go wrong? 

Turns out, Keith will realize, a  _lot._  

A  _lot_ can go wrong. 

And it's only just began. 

 

* * *

 


	3. Wave Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff™ was supposed to happen in this chapter but I got carried away with the smut because I can't control myself so...here's pretty much an entire chapter of smut. Please enjoy~

“Ahh…” The thick heat in Lance’s room swirls aggravatingly like it does in Keith’s gut, “Lance-ah, faster.”

His back presses up tighter against Lance’s chest, the tan arm that’s snaked around past his hip to work at his erection picking up speed like requested. Lance’s bed creaks as they move - as Keith shifts and his hips push up from the warm friction that he very much needs.

They don’t have to rush it. It’s not one of _those_ heatwaves where everything is go go go and now now now and then resolved moments later. No, this one’s a slow, heavy killer - a ‘coming once just isn’t gonna cut it’ wave. So if they’re going to be at this for a while anyway, what’s the fucking rush, right?

Lance’s wrist flicks at a favorable angle, Keith inhaling sharply and his hands untangling from the bed sheets to grab at Lance’s thighs - “Fuck.” - an opportunity one finds when they’re sitting between the snug embrace of their teammate’s legs.

Lance smirks - Keith can feel it against the back of his neck - but he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps picking up speed, his other hand coming to grab Keith’s hip from behind. And it’s actually not too bad, not being able to see Lance's face, because even if this isn’t their first time doing something like this to relieve themselves, there’s still that stubborn voice in Keith’s head that reminds him to feel self conscious.

The teeth that graze along the crook of his neck have Keith bucking into Lance’s hand without warning, his grip clamping down on those surprisingly tight thighs around him.

“Lance, you fucker…” he breathes out, head tipping forward a bit.

Warm breath fans out over his neck as he gets a lower chuckle in return, his voice just as low and teasing against the shell of his ear. “You gonna come or what…?”

It’s enough to set several pleasure points on fire at once - his voice sending unauthorized shivers down Keith’s spine and working hand in hand with the new intensity with which Lance jerks him off from behind.

Keith wants to say something back - wants to _bite_ it, but the words won’t leave his lips as his mouth drops open, the heat pooling dangerously low in his stomach as Lance goes to town, leaning in impossibly tighter against him and wetly licking the sensitive spot beneath Keith’s earlobe and: “C’mon...c’mon, c’mon, c’mon Keith…”

Keith’s hands release Lance’s thighs to slap over his own mouth instead, muffling the moan that would no doubt bring unwanted attention as he comes hotly in Lance’s hand, hips stuttering and eyes fallen shut as he hears Lance whisper: “ _There_ you go…” against his neck.

It’s as satisfying as an orgasm can be when you’re still hard and know that you’ll need to come at least two more times before your body will even entertain the idea of calming down.

But it’s still good. Very good.

And if Lance thinks Keith is going to go easy on him after that, he’s got another thing coming.

 

* * *

 

 

They can’t get back to the planet with the ellicar flowers as soon as they hope. Allura’s got a full schedule filled with alliances and rescue missions planned that stretches out for what _has_ to be at least a month Earth-time. Keith tries to accept it as fact and move on but it’s difficult, carrying on with the new knowledge that he’ll be putting up with something unfortunate for at least another thirty days.

But there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s not about to have a pity party for himself, not when Lance seems to be doing just fine with the news. Somehow. But...Lance has technically always been pretty accepting of things - something Keith may or may not secretly envy. Especially with the way Shiro’s been watching him lately, gaze friendly but analyzing. Like he _knows_ something, or at least knows something’s up.

Keith does his best to avoid the conversation entirely, busying himself with something else when he can tell Shiro’s gearing up to ask him about it. But it’s unavoidable sometimes. He just can’t sneak away or change the subject in time before Shiro’s asking it: “You sure you’re really feeling okay?”

And Keith can only say “Yeah…” so many times before it starts to become obvious that he’s _not_ \- that he’s slipping into heatwaves at the drop of the hat but has to pretend like he’s not melting from the inside out. Because Shiro must see it. Must see _something_. And it’s only a matter of time before he’s not going to be able to lie to him anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

They had a rescue mission this morning.

Hunk, Lance, Keith, and Shiro caused probably too big of a distraction while Pidge slipped in and retrieved someone’s son who was kidnapped by the planet’s invading species or something. Keith still isn’t too sure on all the details, but he decides now that it doesn’t matter, the sound of his boots echoing off the metal floor with each step as he makes his way down the hallway. They’ve already done a handful of rescue missions. As long as whoever needs saving is saved, the job is done in Keith’s bo-

The opening swipe of the door that leads to a lion bay catches Keith by surprise, but not as much as the hands that grab and pull him in without a sound, confusion spinning his brain along with his body until the door closes again and he’s being pressed up against it, those hands now framing his face as his eyebrows raise in surprise at the very serious way Lance is staring at him inches away.

“Quick! What turns you on?”

Keith’s brain short-circuits, unable to find a connection- “W...what-”

“Whatever turns you on,” Lance repeats, still not breaking that eye contact, “think of it. Think of it right now.”

The seriousness in his tone doesn’t drown out the almost frantic way that he speaks. And he wants Keith to _what ? Why_ _?_ Can...can he see into his brain or- “L-Lance, I-”

He’s cut off, the boy in front of him shaking his head, obviously retracing his steps in his mind. “Okay I should’ve seen this coming. Here, I’ll do it.”

“Do...what?”

But Lance cuts him off again with a hissing _ah-ah-ah!_ before closing his eyes.

Keith blinks. Stares. Can’t get his eyebrows to come down from where they’re still risen halfway up his forehead. There’s silence. Then: “Lance, I don’t-” and then there it is...the faint curl of warmth in his stomach...the slight tingle in his fingers.

Keith’s stomach drops.

And Lance opens his eyes. “It worked, didn’t it?”

But. But- “How-”

“I figured it out while I was cleaning Blue.” He redirects: “Well, not _because_ I was cleaning her. More like I had time to figure it out because I w-”

“Lance.”

“What.”

“What the fuck?”

He must see the confused question marks still pinging off all around Keith’s head, because he nods as if to steady himself and then takes a step back - the first bit of personal space since he dragged him in the lion bay in the first place.

“Alright, so listen. This whole time, we’ve been setting off each other’s... _thing_.” He pauses for a response but doesn’t get one, so he continues. “How do I know this, you ask?”

“La-”

“Of course you do! You’d be stupid _not_ to!”

“ _Lance_.” The heat in his veins is either frustration or arousal and Keith doesn’t have the patience to figure out which. “What the hell is happening?”

“ _We’re_ the ones who set off the reaction in each other. One person gets a little frisky, feels a little horny - BAM! - it activates in the other person’s body.” He’s pacing now, almost like a mad scientist.

“Wait wait wait…” Keith holds his hands out, taking a step forward away from the door. “There’s no way-”

“That time after the supplies grab? That was me. And when you got back from that one retrieval mission, I think you might’ve been doing a late-night report? That was me too.”

Keith’s eyes close in an attempt to focus. “Wait, so you’re saying…”

Lance offers a humble shrug. “Yep. I’ll admit it. I was feelin’ it and those flower spores or whatever the hell's inside of us got set off. 'Cause of me.”

It’s a lot to take in. A lot to process. So this whole time...it’s literally been their own faults. Keith runs a hand through his hair. “Holy shit...”

“Mhm. ‘Holy shit’ is right. And guess what? That means that time we were sparring, right after you got the shit kicked outta you…” Lance is closer now, the smirk on his face deadly as he leans in and plants a knowing finger square on Keith’s chest. “...that was _you_.”

“W-...” Keith is quick to sputter, the heat spreading to his face. “The fuck it was-”

“It wasn’t _me_ ,” Lance muses, “so it _had_ to be you.”

The very idea of it is preposterous. And stupid. A-and...and…

Fuck. It _was_ Keith, wasn’t it?

“Like it a little rough, don’tchya shorty?”

Keith bristles at the hand ruffling his hair, even more upset that he has to look up to glare at where Lance is soaking it all in. “Fuck off!” He smacks the hand away, doing his best to combat the confusing swirl of embarrassment and irritation and arousal. “You’re such a fucking prick! You don’t know anything about me! What kind of fucking nerve-”

Keith’s outburst continues as Lance nods and then bends down to swoop him up, listening the entire walk to where Blue patiently stands at the ready.

 

_-_-_

 

They...kind of mess Blue up a little bit. Just a little. But enough to have Lance freaking out and barreling into another cleaning spree once he comes to his senses. Keith sits there quietly and helpfully hands him cleaning supplies as he leans his face in close to her dashboard, whispering heartfelt apologies while gently scrubbing at the metal.

It’s an experience. And definitely something that needs recovering from, if Lance’s wiggly-lipped frown is any indication. So when he’s asked to “be a bro” and hang around for a little bit after, Keith finds himself unable to protest, simply following Lance into his room and sitting in his desk chair without a word.

The clock on the wall says 11:26pm, the sight of someone else still hanging onto the concept of Earth-time almost relieving enough for Keith to miss the glass clanking suspiciously behind him. Almost.

“Where’d you go…” Lance is rummaging around in one of the storage containers beneath his bed, his back turned to Keith as he hunches over and continues to mumble to himself.

“Should I ask what you’re looking for?”

“You _could_.”

“Alright,” Keith breathes out through his nose and folds his arms, head tilting to the side a bit as he eyes him from across the room, “What’re you looking for?”

Lance sifts through a few more things before straightening, his back still turned. “Aha…!”

Keith can’t make out what he’s holding up at this angle, so he simply waits, eyebrow raised.

He doesn’t have to wait for long, because then Lance is kicking the storage container back under his bed and turning, a devious grin on his face as he presents his much sought after treasure.

Keith’s eyes fall from his grin to the bottle in his hand - long-necked but a similar girth all the way around. The purple liquid in it glistens under the synthetic lights, almost as intriguing as the devilish way Lance’s lips quirk at the sides.

“What is it?” Keith asks carefully, always weary of that devious look.

Lance twists the top from the bottle, “Oh, just a little something I might’ve picked up in the Cera System,” swirling the liquid around and watching it shimmer.

Keith can’t help but watch too. “Okay, but...what _is_ it?”

He’s answered with the swish of the bottle, Lance bringing the top to his lips and taking a small sip, eyes closing for the briefest of moments before fixing back down onto where Keith is watching him. “Alien booze. _Good_ alien booze.”

Keith can feel his eyes narrowing. Can feel his judginess beginning to rear its ugly head. “Seriously?”

Lance’s smirk is dangerous. “Seriously.”

“How the hell do you find time to drink?”

“Don’t have to,” he explains calmly, taking a step forward. “Only takes two or three sips to get you loaded. And I haven’t had a single hangover. It’s basically the universe’s greatest invention.” He’s gotten several steps closer now, the bottle dangling tauntingly in front of Keith’s face. “Whatdya say, short stuff. Want some?”

“If I do, will you stop calling me short stuff?”

“No, but it’ll make it more tolerable.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey listen, man…” Lance’s posture gradually slouches into something relaxed as he talks, “You don’t have to drink it, but I already feel it kickin’ in. So you can either _join_ me, or deal with me stone-ass sober. Your call.”

Keith stares up at him, the concept of being around drunk Lance alone sounding not so stellar. One more flourish and a tempting “Mmm?” causes his eyes to nearly roll straight through the top of his head as finally reaches out, grabbing the thin bottle from where it's being presented to him.

He ignores the little victory shimmy in the background to focus instead on bringing the bottle to his lips, tilting it back and allowing himself a small gulp. The taste is dangerously deceiving - delicious even. It’s like the artificial flavoring they put in candy. Strawberry but not _really_ strawberry.

“Ehh?” Lance prompts when the bottle is handed back to him.

Keith wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m surprised you have the self control to drink this stuff.”

“Funny.” Lance sways a bit, “Keep bein’ a dick,” tips his head a bit, “but you’ll love me later.”

It’s an odd comment. Out of place in the atmosphere and in Keith’s brain as it settles. The expected thing for him to do is deny it...or protest...or pick some sort of fight at the ridiculousness of it all. But Keith doesn’t do it. He doesn’t take the bait. And maybe it’s the strawberry sweetness or the late hour, but Lance’s facade breaks a little bit when he doesn’t get what he’s expecting - if only for a second - gaze softening into something unsure as it lingers on Keith and then drops away.

But then he’s right back, obviously pushing himself as he twists around, the purple liquid glistening under the lights again as he takes another sip and then collapses down onto his bed with an exaggerated groan. Theatrical. Normal.

It feels more comfortable in Keith’s brain as his thoughts begin to slow - ease into something way more calm as the alien booze starts to kick in. And wow, that was quick.

“Yeah it’s fast as hell.”

Keith blinks over at where Lance is twisting the cap back on, his back leaned against the wall and legs sprawled out on his bed.

Ah. So he said that out loud. He’s got a problem with that lately.

“First sip is like...super chill, y’know?” Lance continues, words slurring. “Then second one’s all…yeah okay that’s some good shit. ‘N third one…” he nods satisfyingly to himself, eyes closing and head relaxing back.

Keith waits for him to finish even though he knows he probably won’t. So he just watches. Feels the weirdly calming sensation of his thoughts becoming silky smooth strands of spiderwebs dancing in the breeze.

It’s only interrupted by Lance’s voice, “Here…” his long arm stretching out to wave the bottle at him from where he’s sitting.

Keith stands and accepts without another cobweb thought, fingers somehow fumbling against glass and Lance’s fingers but still remaining smooth as he brings it to his mouth and takes another drink.

And... “It’s weird that it tastes like strawberry when it’s purple, right?” he asks calmly, examining the liquid with heavy eyes. “Like they were trying to copy Earth tastes without paying enough attention to match flavors with the right colors.” His attention drops from the bottle to where a smile is slowly forming across Lance’s face from where he’s watching him. “What?”

“Nothin’ just…” He readjusts himself. “...think that’s the most v’heard you talk since the garrison.”

The air clicks on in the room at just the right time, the satisfying warmth in Keith’s head cooling.

“...n’it’s weird,” Lance continues, reaching out to take the booze as it’s handed back to him. “Tastes like orange to me. N’lime kinda. Must change for people.”

The concept of something changing flavors to accommodate for different people is a little more than Keith can handle, his brows coming together as the concept tries to process in a brain that’s honey-slow but starting to buzz pleasantly.

The second sip is kicking in.

“Keith...my dude…” Lance is talking. “Ya gotta sit - you’re drivin’ me crazy just standin’ there.”

Keith’s consciousness shifts back to sparkling liquid and Lance’s grin.

Oh. Yeah, he _is_ just standing here, isn’t he? Kinda awkward.

His ass barely makes it to the floor before Lance is snorting out a laugh, a hand over his eyes like he can’t believe what’s happening. “You-...” he shakes his head. “Chair ‘n a bed ‘n you sit on the floor. That’s-...that’s some…”

Keith wants to be mad but he can feel the corners of his mouth twitching upward by the power of suggestion, tempted by Lance’s own laughter.

Definitely the space liquor.

“Get up here.” The bed creaks as Lance leans forward, waiting for an answer that Keith is having trouble getting out. “C’mon, shorty.”

It’s not until a pillow is clipping his shoulder that Keith finally gets with it, scrambling up with much less finesse than he expects. Actually it's more of a stumble-roll that propels him from the floor up onto the bed, his face smushing into the mattress ungracefully.

“Ohmygod…” he groans into the bed sheet once the whole transition is complete, barely audible over how Lance has crumbled into a fit of laughter beside him.

He’s actually collapsed onto his side once Keith gets his bearings enough to sit rightside up, noting the amusing way Lance is holding onto his stomach as he fights for breath through each cluster of giggles.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but it’s lost its sting through the smile on his face. Because yeah. He guesses that was pretty funny.

“Sorry…” Lance chuckles, finding the energy to sit up again. “M’sorry. Woo! Oh man…” He slumps back into position, only to lean in closer so quickly that it catches Keith off guard. “Aw! Look, you’re blushing!” he coos, poking his fingers into both of Keith’s cheeks so annoyingly that Keith _has_ to smack them away. _Has_ to push him back and give himself some space because he _knows_ he’s blushing, god damn it. He just face-planted into the fucking mattress.

“Get-...fuck…” he grumbles, both hands locking onto Lance’s shoulders to keep him a safe distance away.

“Okay okay okay!” Lance practically begs through another onslaught of laughter. “Keith m’sorry. You win, okay? You win.”

“WhatdoI win.” Keith says but it comes out as more of a demand. And he wonders if it’s obvious that he’s trying to overcompensate for the laughter trying to escape from his own mouth. “WhatdoI...what’d I win.”

He doesn’t remember letting go of Lance’s shoulders. “Hmmm… How ‘bout - ...no, that’stupid…” Lance looks up into the ceiling. Then a decision. “I know! You can ask me something!”

“Ask you something?”

“Yeah! Like anything.”

“That’s dumb-”

“No, like - okay something embarrassing.”

Keith is dubious. “Why would...you let me do that…”

“Be _cause_ _!”_ Lance’s smile morphs into something confident. Cocky, even. “Y’know I don’ get embarrassed.”

Smirk activated. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Ha. Bring it, shorty.”

And oh...the possibilities that start to swirl around in Keith’s spiderweb thoughts… He’s gotta make this good - can’t ask something normal because it’s true, Lance really doesn’t find shame in the majority of the shit he does. Not outwardly at least. No, this has to be _good._

The grin that slowly dances its way across Keith’s lips is almost sinister. Practically evil.

He’s got it.

“Okay…” he starts slowly, head lolling to the side playfully as he sets his question up, “Today. When you pulled me into the lion bay ‘n thought of what turned you on…” his smirk widens. “What were you thinking about?”

Keith can see the exact moment in time when what’s being asked of Lance actually hits him. When he _realizes._ It’s when his eyes widen just a little bit, then dart away, then focus back in but in a distinctly panicked sort of way. To say it’s a satisfying display would be an understatement.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Thought you said you didn’t get embarrassed…” Keith knows he’s being a little bit of an ass-hat right now, but it’s fun. It’s _so_ fun. He gets why Lance does it so often.

Speak of the devil. “I-! I don’t!” He’s crossing his arms now, the flush starting to creep up his neck.

“Then what were you thinking about?”

A moment of silence passes between them - heavy and thick - and then Lance swallows, cracking his neck as his attention darts into the other direction again while he clears his throat. “Nothin’ just-...y’know...whatever would happen if someone...saw us…y’know _doin_ it...” He trails off at the end, any remaining confidence faked at this point.

Keith’s eyes narrow at the answer, but his smirk stays firmly in place. “Wait...what?” Because he can’t have just heard right.

And Lance must realize he’s cornered, because he gestures wildly, “Getting caught!” pushing forward despite his clipped tone. “Knowing someone’s-...like we know they’re there but…still... _do_...it...”

And yep, Keith heard that right. He can feel his eyebrows raise all on their own. “Wow.”

That’s-...

He’s almost impressed.

“Yeah well,” Lance has entered that stage where he fronts, and Keith wonders if this is what _he_ looks like when he’s on the other end. “Least I don’t like gettin’ the _shit_ knocked outta me.”

“I-... That’s...an exaggeration-”

“You sure?” It’s Lance’s turn to instigate now, scooting a bit closer as he switches to the offensive. Keith isn’t solid on how this got flipped around on him so quickly. “Cuz I think I ‘member you more than a little hard from gettin’ pushed around first time we fucked.”

And Keith could have _sworn_ they were talking about Lance. Could’ve bet his goddamn life he wasn’t the one being teased just a second ago. So why is the heat suddenly blossoming in his stomach? Fuck _that_. “M’leaving.”

Lance’s smirk falls. “W-...you are?”

“You’re comin’ with.”

Now Lance’s face doesn’t seem to know _what_ to do. “Where?”

“Training deck.”

“Why?”

But Keith has pulled himself up off the bed and latched onto Lance’s wrist, pulling him in the same direction until they’re both stumbling out the door, Keith explaining on the way. “Proving ground.”

“The fuck’re you-”

“Jus’ follow me.”

Lance quickly falls into step next to him, probably not understanding fully but always down for an adventure, alien booze or not. When they finally make it from the darkened hallways to the training deck, Keith flicks a set of the overhead lights on and then finds his footing in the center of the room, fists up and ready.

Lance notices. “Why’re-”

“Fight me.”

It pulls a surprised chuckle from him. “What?”

“ _Fight_ me,” Keith repeats, taking a deep breath and lowering his head to give off his most threatening come-hither look.

It does a great job at turning Lance’s amused little grin into something mischievous, even as he says. “We’re drunk though.”

“Don’care.”

“Really?”

“Nope.”

“But-”

“R’you gonna fuckin’ _fight_ me or what?” Keith says it maybe a little louder than necessary but he’s impatient - can feel the heat of the space alcohol mingling with the heat of impending arousal.

But Lance must feel it too, because he exhales a breathy “Alright then…” as he rolls his shoulder to stretch while he starts forward, cocky grin sliding back into place. “I see what this is…”

Every step he takes closer kindles the fire of anticipation in Keith’s body. Because he’s ready and half-lit and actually Lance _doesn’t_ know what this is about. Not by a long shot. But Keith does.

The first punch comes easy. Half-effort. Keith blocks it and answers with his own and it’s blocked just as easily. But then they pick up into a rhythm - something quick and satisfying but simple enough that their swaying steps and sometimes off-target punches can keep up. Lance’s smirk grows with each hit, like he knows where this is going even though he doesn’t. (Which isn’t to say that Keith’s _not_ getting a little hard from the roughness of it - the blatant manhandling.)

To be honest, he’s not as aware of his surroundings as he should be. It’s what gets him in the sticky situation of a wall to his back, unable to be outmaneuvered as Keith takes a step away but Lance is right there, right in his way, and he sweeps forward until his forearm is bracing across the top of Keith’s chest and he’s backing him up into the wall, arm keeping him pressed against it firmly as a surprised grunt escapes between Keith’s heavy breaths.

It catches him by surprise, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he realizes he’s been trapped. Fuck. The plan definitely wasn’t to be pinned against the wall, Lance towering over him and their chests brushing against each other as they fight for breath.

“Do I win?” Lance grins confidently, his head tilting down so he can keep the space between their mouths aggravatingly tight.  

Keith swallows thickly, warm and already hard and head spinning. But this isn’t the plan. So he uses the last breadth of space between them to slide his foot under Lance’s - “Nope.” - the hold on him weakening enough to let Keith bend out from under him and pull him away from the wall. They turn through the momentum of the pull together, moving further and further into the center of the room until Keith digs his heels in - twists Lance around - gets his feet out from under him for real this time and then follows him down to the floor, one hand on the back of Lance’s neck and the other pinning his arm tight against his back.

Lance lets out a groan, the side of his face smashed against the floor and ass in the air, wide open for Keith to lean down flush against him, his dick pressing against where his ass waits. “Fuck…”

“ _I_ win,” Keith corrects him, letting his arm go so he can slot their bodies together tighter. “...case you were wondering.”

Lance squirms under him, trying to gain the upper hand but failing miserably. Keith answers by tightening his grip on the back of his neck, using his free hand to grab Lance’s waist and rock into him dangerously close.

“Stop trying,” he mutters, milking another groan from Lance as he continues to rock forward. “Right now, you're mine.”

Lance’s groan turns heated, his eyes falling shut. “Alright... I get it now,” he pants against the floor. “S’fuckin’ hot when you’re rough.”

It's Keith’s turn to smirk now, wetting his lips above him and then leaning down to speak, his mouth ghosting over Lance’s ear. “I could do it, y’know. Right here.” He grinds himself against his ass in example. “Where anyone could just...walk _right_ in…”

He sees Lance’s fingers try to find a grip at the ground, an interested noise slipping past his lips.

It fuels the fire in Keith’s blood. “...’n what makes you think I'd stop? If they did?”

Lance squirms again, ass pushing back against where Keith’s now unmistakably and unapologetically hard. “God… Keith…”

“You don't believe me,” he says lowly, breath warm against the shell of Lance’s ear. “You don't think I'd actually fuck you on the training deck.”

Lance’s chest is heaving now - both of theirs are. And when he says it, it’s low and challenging and all-in. “Fuckin’ dare you.”

And there it is. The confirmation. The completely obvious affirmation that yes, Lance is totally into the idea of being watched while messing around.

Keith officially knows Lance’s kink.

The mats below them give a bit as Keith readjusts, releasing his hold on the back of Lance’s neck so he can lean back and pull their sweatpants down over their hips, Lance’s entrance still slick and stretched from when they messed around in Blue not too long ago.

Keith lines himself up and sinks in without a word, heartbeat pick up from the heat that pools already so dangerously low. He has to keep it together. Has to get his shit in order. Has to-

“F-fuck. Keith…”

Lance is struggling even worse, eyes squeezed shut and face turning to hide against the floor even though he isn't being held there anymore.

Keith grabs him by the waist - snaps his hips forward and pulls a pleasantly surprised moan from him - exactly what he was aiming for.

“So loud,” he says into his ear as he leans back down again, continuing to snap his hips. “So loud someone could hear you… Come looking for you… Find you getting fucked out here in the open…”

Lance’s short fingernails dig into the training mat below them, a perfect indicator that Keith’s taunting is working.

“Course they wouldn't have to…” he continues, slowly picking up speed and swallowing down his own noises in favor of hearing Lance’s. “Not when they have _that_.”

Lance’s eyes open, questioning, and they follow when Keith reaches down to cup his jaw from behind with a firm “Look…”, gently pulling his head up so he they can fix on the spot high on the wall in the corner of the room.

The surveillance camera.

He can feel his adam’s apple bob below the hold on his jaw. He takes it as the perfect time to bottom out, Lance’s back arching as Keith pushes in as far as comfortable, keeping himself there until he can't stand it anymore.

“The-...camera, Keith…” Lance’s voice is breathy, matching the way his chest heaves.

Keith has him exactly where he wants him, right on the edge -  “Anyone could be watching… Could be _right now_.” - which works well because he’s having trouble keeping the heat from spilling over. “Wonder who it is.”

Lance is meeting his thrusts now, trying to contain the sounds by tipping his head forward.

Keith lets him but keeps his hand on his jaw as he leans back in. “Could be Hunk…” he murmurs, “Could be Allura…” leaving Lance’s imagination to do the work. “Could be _Shiro_.” He feels Lance’s mouth drop open at that, heavy breath against the mat, and Keith can't help the smirk, pointing Lance’s face back up toward where the camera watches unflinchingly. “Smile, Lance.”

The body beneath him stutters for a second and then arches, Lance’s voice breaking as he bites through the moan that punctuates the heat spilling over inside him, coming untouched onto the training mat below him.

The liquid warmth overflows, Keith coming too before he can pull out, encouraged by the surprisingly hot view of Lance getting off to the thing that turns him on the most.

It's-... _fuck_ it's hot.

Like _really_ hot.

Like…

Keith takes a deep breath. Lets the fog clear from his brain. Lets his spiderweb thoughts reform. Lets Lance roll out from under him, their eyes falling on the mess left on the mat, and then slowly up to the camera still recording away high up on the wall.

Oh.

“Fuck.” Lance is the first to speak, his pants already pulled up and snug around his waist.

And… Yeah. Keith agrees. “That was really stupid.” They’re probably going to all be in here tomorrow training. And...after him and Lance...

Lance gets to his feet, swaying slightly, “I’ll clean up.”

“I’ll go delete the video in the control room.”

He walks briskly from the training deck to the dark room lit blue by monitors. The heat already reignites when he sees the recording of Lance bent over under him, their bodies jerking forward and Lance's face held up toward the camera, both their eyes meeting Keith's as he hits the Delete Record option.

Yeah. Heatwaves and alcohol. _Definitely_ not a good combination.

 

* * *

 


	4. Wave Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grab a beverage, friend. it's a long one this time.

The reality of what they did on the training deck doesn’t actually sink in until the next day. It’s more of a vague sort of understanding and then a huge jarring realization that slaps Keith across the face and leaves it stinging.

It’s beyond foolish, what they did. And Keith started it. It was all him. He  _ might  _ actually be the stupidest lifeform in the entire universe.  And what’s worse is, they can’t even function the next day - can’t physically get through it without someone accidentally setting off that fucking alien sensor bullshit in their bodies, making the two of them have to disappear over and over and over again. 

By the fifth time the telltale blossom of heat uncurls in his stomach, Keith can’t control his aggravation, balling his fists and “Ahh,  _ Lance _ …” and Lance pulls his hood all the way down over his reddened cheeks, groaning: “I’m sorry, I just can’t stop thinking about it!” and in the end it’s  _ Keith’s fault _ . He’s the one who had to go and prove a point and fuck Lance on the training deck. He’s the one who literally hand-delivered Lance’s biggest kink to him. How can he expect him not to think about what happened? 

Keith storms out of the kitchen, shoulder colliding and spitting out: “I’m fine!” before Shiro can say anything.

It’s his  _own._ _  fucking. fault. _

 

* * *

 

Things settle. Even though Keith was certain they wouldn’t, they do. Things settle and they move onto their next mission because they  _ are  _ technically the defenders of the universe, as hard to believe as that might be sometimes. 

The current mission is a two-parter - something Allura, Coran, and Shiro whipped up in jesus knows what time. First, they’re to touch down on Ahtia, a planet Keith’s neither heard of nor cares to hear about. The humanoid species there apparently sent out a distress beacon containing information about an “incoming spiritual awakening” that the goddess they worship demands the members of Voltron be present for. Something about needing a witness or...or something. Either way, that’s step one. Step two is then actually forming an alliance with the Ahtian people afterwards, which shouldn’t be hard after showing up for step one. So all in all, a pretty solid plan. Keith is looking forward to it being over, even though it’s just begun.

“Mighty Paladins of Voltron,” the Ahtian king’s voice booms from the golden throne he’s been carried to the grassy clearing on, bright white skin practically shining in the sun. “We welcome you to our home, on this the day of our most auspicious Ceremony of Light.” 

The clearing erupts in the cheers of the thousands of Ahtians who watch nearby, flanking where the royal family and the paladins stand in front of a rather impressively tall altar, which gives way to a staircase that reaches high up into the sky.

Keith readjusts the language translator in his ear, the king’s words flawlessly feeding into English so the Earthlings can keep up with what’s being said. He’s never been so thankful for a piece of technology, or so dependent on one. Especially when the Ahtian standing next to him leans over just a bit, not taking his eyes off the ceremony as his voice drops into a hushed tone.

“Thank you very much for coming. I haven’t seen Father this pleased for many years.”

Keith chances a side glance up, noting the gold spikes pierced through the Ahtian’s earlobes. His  _ father _ _?_   Oh shit, guess that makes him the prince then. Best behavior, Keith. “We could tell it was important to him when we got the distress call.”

In front of them, the king turns toward the stairs and raises his hands up in glorious power, sunlight seeming to shimmer from his palms and the tips of his fingers as he utters something under his breath. Prayer, maybe.

The prince simply smiles and leans back to position, “Very important…” just as the clouds above them begin to part.

They open like curtains to reveal what can only be described as a heavenly embodiment of light, her entire body shimmering as she floats to touch down onto the top step, feet first.

“Uh...everyone else seein’ this?” Hunk mumbles through the side of his mouth.

“Yeah Hunk,” Shiro answers quietly. “We all see it.” But the way his eyes are a little wider than normal is a dead giveaway that he’s having trouble coming to grips with it too.

“Mother Hess-Riah...you bless us with your holy presence.” The king’s voice carries boldly but respectfully up to where the goddess is looking down upon them, her robes seeming to float around her on their own accord. “We continue to devote our lives to your unwavering being, and humbly ask that you continue to bless us with the protection with which you grant us so generously.”

Keith can’t help but notice the way the rest of the Ahtians wait on bated breath - some holding their children, others with their heads bowed. The prince stands at attention next to him, posture straight as he waits patiently, but if Keith didn’t know any better, he’d say the glimmer of awe that he sees in the others’ eyes is missing in his. Almost as if he’s here but not  _ here _ . Not mentally. And that’s...weird for a prince, right-

The lightning-zap of a laser bullet crackles past Keith’s ear - loud and jarring and clipping a few strands of hair before it lodges in the ground an inch away from the king’s feet and then it  _ registers _ .

“Rebels!” Someone from the crowd shouts at the top of their lungs, launching the rest into a flurry of panic as another bullet comes zipping through.

Shiro and Hunk are already sprinting toward where the king stands out in the open, the Ahtian guards scrambling and shouting and then another laser bullet and Keith spins and zones in - traces it back to where it’s been fired - spots the rebel in question and feels his pulse take off as the gun is re-positioned towards him - towards the  _ prince _ \- and he can hear the bullet zipping towards him before he finally sees it-

“Get down!” he yells, throwing his body in front of the prince and pushing him to the ground with just enough time to activate his shield, the shot pinging off and fizzling out a few feet away. 

He keeps the shield up, blocking the prince as he grits his teeth and quickly searches for more rebels. Except he doesn’t get how they look any different than the rest of the population so he just fucking  _ plants  _ himself, adrenaline spiking and determination deadly as things continue to spin around him. 

The guards have all converged on one point in the bustling crowd, another group starting in on where the shots toward the prince came from. It’s only a matter of moments before the rebels are weeded out and escorted from the clearing. Impressively fast.

Where they’re being taken, Keith has no idea. All he knows is the mayhem has calmed, the Ahtians’ shouts of surprise and confusion dulling into a low murmur as the king nods and then puts a hand on Shiro and Hunk’s shoulders.

“I understand now,” he says, almost to himself, and then turns toward where the goddess of light watches from the top of the stairs. “Your blessing upon us comes in the form of these warriors of Voltron. This is why you wished for them to be present today. Mother Hess-Riah, surely you are mighty and all-knowing. We thank you for the protection you have sent from the bottom of our hearts.”

Keith deactivates his shield with a heavy breath, pulse settling back down now that the immediate danger is over. The grass bends at his feet as he turns to help the prince stand, who is staring at him now, “Thank you,” and if Keith isn’t mistaken, there’s a slight glimmer returning to the grays of his eyes.

 

_-_-_

 

The paladins’ quick thinking during the rebel attack not only elevates their standings in the king’s eyes, it also secures them a fancy-ass place to stay for the night. And when Keith says fancy-ass, he means  _ fancy-ass _ .

The rooms are huge - high vaulted ceilings and nice stone floors that are polished so thoroughly that Keith slips in his socks and face-plants into it the second he takes off his shoes (not that the others need to know about that). But, lying there wallowing in his own wounded pride, he has a chance to admire the outrageously elegant fixtures positioned throughout the room - the large floor-length mirror adorned with gold plating - a bed so big he’s pretty sure the entire team could comfortably fit in it, but only intended for him.

It’s a far cry from a shack in the middle of the desert. 

_ Fancy-ass. _

One of his favorite parts of the beyond ridiculous accommodations is the spacious stone bathtub positioned by the windows looking out onto the palace’s garden. It’s big enough that he can stretch out and relax, the water warm and the aroma of the complimentary soap left for him easing into his senses, flooding him with a sense of calm that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

It’s...well it’s amazing, to be honest. He can just relax, eyes closed and warm water soothing away the aches in his body as the breeze floats in through one of the open windows. Complete bliss. 

“Aw what the  _ hell?   _ I don’t get a bathtub in  _ my  _ room!”

Aaaand there it is. 

Keith groans, sinking further into the water as his calm threatens to come crashing down around him. “Go away, Lance,” he warns. “I’m relaxing.” How did he even get in here? Shouldn’t there be a door guard or something that comes with this place?

“No fair! This is ‘cause the prince is all sweet on you.”

Keith doesn’t even have to glance over to know Lance has his arms crossed like a child. “I saved his life,” he redirects calmly, desperately trying to cling onto the last remaining shreds of relaxation.

It doesn’t work. “Yeah and I figured out which two out of a thousand Ahtian’s were the rebels, but you don’t see a fancy-ass bath in  _ my  _ room, do you?”

Ha. Fancy-ass. 

Lance is probably waiting for a response, but Keith doesn’t entertain him with one, not exactly up for discussing whether a member of the royal family does or does not favor him over the others.

“Whatever. Either way, I call next.”

“Next what?”

“Next  _ bath _ .”

Keith’s eyes open then, calm obliterated. “No way!”

“Why not?”

“It’s mine!”

“Share!” Lance is walking closer now, arms gesturing wildly. “Teammates share all the time.”

“No, Lance!”

“You can use the weird music-thingy in my room!”

“I don’t want that!”

“Keith pleeeeeease.” He’s dropped to his knees now, pitifully scooting across the polished floor on them until he’s reached the edge of the bathtub. 

Thank god for the milky shimmer of the soap that hides Keith’s more intimate regions. Not that it isn’t anything they haven’t seen before. “Ugh, Lance…” he groans, frowning as his teammate props his chin on the edge of the tub and sticks his lower lip out in a pitiful pout. “...that doesn’t work on me.”

“It works on  _ Hunk _ .”

“I’m not Hunk.”

“You’re right - Hunk would let me use his bath.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Alright fine.  _ Fine _ ,” he finally gives, water splashing as he throws his arms up in defeat. “Whatever, just leave me alone.”

Lance’s pout vanishes in an instant, a smile of victory taking its place as he hisses a “Yesssss,” and then leans in, his lips pressing against the corner of Keith’s mouth so suddenly that Keith’s heart drops, warmth rising to his face as Lance quickly leans back. “Whoa. Weird - sorry I dunno what that was-”

“Just get out!” Keith shouts maybe a bit too loudly, because he can feel the confusing heat in his cheeks and something twitching near his heart and jesus what the fuck-

Lance gets to his feet, not seeming worse for wear in the slightest as he waves and and jogs over to the door with a smile, “Tell me when you’re done!” 

The door slams behind him and he’s gone as quickly as he came in.

And.

And…

Keith covers his face with his hands, sliding down until his head slips completely underwater.

 

_-_-_

 

So what started as a calming bath ultimately turned into yet another stressful situation, but the breeze is nice and the sun is starting to set and Keith thinks he can probably use this walk through the garden as a good enough replacement. 

The hedges that line the outside of the plot of land give way to many different paths, which give way to separate alcoves, all containing different types of plants and benches to observe them on. The alcove Keith finds himself walking into hosts a serene stretch of pink flowers, their petals glowing peacefully in the dimming light. They draw his attention so completely that he doesn’t even notice he’s not alone. 

“Oh, it’s you. The Black Paladin.”

Keith’s head whips around, eyes landing on the pure white skin of the woman standing not too far away, her arms on her hips but her posture casual. He clears his throat, wondering how to proceed. “Uh... _ red _ , actually.”

His correction has her tipping her head to the side, examining his face and then entire body for a solid moment before shrugging. “Red it is, then. Either way you’re Rahvi’s favorite. Sure you’re enjoying  _ that _ .”

Keith’s brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rahveon,” she repeats. Then: “You know, the prince.”

Oh. He had no idea that was his name. Or that people call him by his first name. Or maybe just she does that.

The Ahtian moves, walking nonchalantly before bending to pluck one of the glowing pink flowers from the ground. Keith finds himself watching with a certain amount of curiosity - the relaxed way she holds herself - the way she speaks - there’s something different about it.

“Why don’t you talk like everyone else?” He asks it before his knowledge of proper social interaction can stop him.

But she doesn’t seem to be offended. On the contrary, she answers with a quiet chuckle. “Figured that out quickly, yeah? Such a smart one.” It’s unclear if that was intended to be an insult, but Keith doesn’t have time to try and figure it out before she’s talking again. “Not everyone walks around like they’ve got a stick up their ass. All ‘oh wonderful Mother Hess-Riah, we’re shit without you’, y’know?”

Keith hesitates. “The prince does.”

“Yeah but Rahveon’s alright. Doesn’t eat into the whole ‘most holy’ garbage as much as he lets on.” The flower twists in her fingers as she speaks, and then falls back onto the ground, its glow dimmed and forgotten. 

Keith looks back up at her - at the thin gold chain wrapped high around her neck - the only piece of jewelry she’s wearing. “Shouldn’t he, though? He’s the prin-”

“He’s not what he pretends to be. A lot of us aren’t. Let’s leave it at that.”

Keith lets her clipped tone finish it, nodding and then looking up to where the sun has almost completely set. “You and the prince, though…” he tries, bringing his gaze back down onto her as she meets his eyes. “...you’re friends?”

She smiles. Cryptic. Telling but not telling. Then: “Lots of questions for a stranger. Don’t you have some more asses to kiss, ‘Mighty Red Paladin of Voltron’?” 

He huffs a tiny laugh at her mocking tone. “Keith.”

The offer of personal information has her eyes narrowing in consideration. But then she says, almost as if she’s confirming something secretly in her mind: “Creah.” And then she reaches out to twist the robes on Keith’s shoulders completely around on his body, “And you’ve got these on backwards,” before taking her leave behind him.

Keith notes how the fabric feels much more comfortable against him now, turning to thank her but finding himself alone in the garden when he does.

 

_-_-_

 

Ahtia is a weird place, his brain decides that night, running a mile a minute as he does his best to fall asleep in this continent of a bed. Pretty, but weird. There’s something going on underneath all the gold jewelry and polished floors. He doesn’t know what, but there’s definitely  _ something _ . Maybe he’ll talk to Shiro and see if he’s noticed anything too.

Keith’s thoughts are interrupted by an unknown noise - probably some weird Ahtian animal making a strange sound outside the window. It’s something like a cross between a horse whinny and a bird, and Keith’s ability to sleep is far from nearing, so he doesn’t see the harm in getting up to investigate.

There are three moons in the sky when he approaches the massive window, each hanging lowly and larger than the next one. They cast enough moonlight that he can see for miles - the clearing far off in the distance - hills upon hills upon hills - the glowing pink flowers in the garden. 

He shudders. That’s all he needs: more magic-fucking-flowers.

The knock on his door startles him, his muscles tensing as his head whips toward it. It’s late. Has to be some ungodly Earth-time. But there’s another knock regardless.

Keith takes a step towards it, considering throwing a shirt on before answering but forgoing it so he can press his ear up against the smooth stone.

“Who is it?” he asks calmly, despite his increasing heartbeat.

He’s only relieved when the voice on the other side answers him just as quietly, as if not to disturb whoever else might be lurking in the night. “Lance. Open up.”

Keith sighs. Lance. At this hour. The door is heavy but he pulls it open anyway, confusion obvious as he lets him in. “Wha-”

The sudden hand on his chest cuts him off, firm and confident as it pushes him backward, the door slamming perhaps a bit too loudly behind Lance as he moves forward. 

“Lance, what the f-”

“Don’t,” he cuts him off, tone low and smug. “You knew this was coming.”

“Wh-”

“You deserve this and you know it.”

Keith frowns despite the curl of interested warmth in his stomach, wide eyed and unsure because... Because this is  _ not  _ Lance. “What the fuck - have you been drinking?”

Lance’s posture falls at that, less tense - if not a bit annoyed - as his voice returns to normal for a second. “No. No I’m paying you back.”

Keith blinks. Paying him back? “For  _ what _ -”

It’s then that it hits him, his narrowed eyes slowly widening in realization as his mouth drops open.

The training deck.

Oh.

Oh  _ fuck _ .

He’s pinned to the wall before he can process it, Lance’s mouth moving hungrily against the side of his neck and his knee slotting up between his legs. Keith huffs out an exhale from the impact, defenses triggering on autopilot but unable to deny how quickly the curling heat bursts into something steamy and full-bodied. He does his best to keep up but Lance is moving fast - kissing him hard - both hands grabbing at his sides and pulling him in tight. 

It’s a lot to process. And all so suddenly. But Keith has felt this heat inside of him long enough now to know how to satisfy it, so he drops a hand down to the waist of Lance’s pants, ready to move this forward until-

The grip on his wrist surprises him, almost as much as how Lance yanks his arm back up and pins it to the wall without looking or slowing in the slightest. And it’s interesting enough that Keith pushes it, dropping his other hand to Lance’s waist and humming against his mouth as it’s pulled up and pinned on his other side, just as expected.  

And now he’s trapped here, both hands held against the smooth stone wall and climbing as Lance slides them up until they’re both above Keith’s head, bringing them together so he can hold them tightly in one hand.

Keith smirks, flexing his wrists to test the strength, but Lance doesn’t seem to like that. Not by the way his free hand comes to hold Keith’s jaw, forcing him to look up to where he’s leering down at him, grin crooked. “Think that’s funny?”

Keith shakes his head despite his smirk. It’s  _ hot  _ is what it is. This whole thing is fucking  _ hot _ .

Especially how Lance’s voice has dropped into this low, dark mischief that Keith’s never heard before. “You’re telling me if it’s too rough, got it?”

Keith nods, not sure if he could even talk with how firmly Lance is holding his jaw - his head pressed back into the wall. But he doesn’t have to worry for long, because then Lance is letting go and taking a step back, moving more toward the center of the room without breaking eye contact.

Keith waits, his arms falling back at his sides as he stands there, chest heaving, until Lance beckons him with a head nod and says it - calm but sultry. “C’mere.”

He’s being summoned. Keith is being summoned but he can’t deny the way the order twists interestingly inside of him. So he follows. He moves toward the center of the room - closer and closer until he’s right in front of Lance, his shirt soft against Keith’s bare chest as he waits for it. And waits for it.

And then Lance says it. 

“Knees.”

Keith blinks, hoping he just heard right and arousal swirling low in his stomach as Lance repeats himself, slower and this time with a knowing quirk of his lips. 

Oh yeah. He definitely heard right.

The polished floor is smooth and cool as Keith drops to it, his vision going from Lance’s devilish gaze to the very obvious outline of his dick, these Ahtian pants doing a terrible job at hiding how hard he is. He can feel his heart pummeling the inside of his ribcage as Lance unties the front, and then lets them drop to the floor without a word. Because it’s unmistakable then - with Keith’s mouth watering at the sight of Lance standing there, completely hard and ready and right in front of him. 

Holy shit.

He swallows thickly, the heat flooding through him because Lance is peering down at him, head tilted back a bit and a teasing grin slowly dancing its way across his lips as he says it. 

“Open up.”

Keith freezes, his muscles refusing to move for a second because  _ fuck _ . Really? But he wants it, so he forces it - forces himself to wet his lips, let his mouth drop open, and then slowly blink up at Lance with his tongue stuck out at the ready, his hands in his lap as he waits.

He can feel his cheeks reddening - can see the way Lance’s act breaks for a second time as he looks down at him, eyes closing and voice weak, “...god…” because this is-... Keith’s-…

It only lasts for a moment, Lance pushing himself to get back into character and take himself in his hand, the head of his dick rubbing against Keith’s cheek before making it to his mouth. 

It settles on Keith’s tongue - heavy and hot - and Keith’s pulse has officially taken off. Clear into the atmosphere. High enough that it can’t see how he lets Lance’s cock lay there for a second and then takes more of it into his mouth, slowly at first, then more confidently, until he’s moving at a pace that has Lance’s toes curling - then a hand in Keith’s hair - then two hands. And pretty soon Keith doesn’t even have to move because Lance is directing him, rocking his hips and fucking Keith’s mouth shallowly enough that Keith finds himself wanting more - needing it harder - desperate for something more rough. The impending heat doesn’t do anything to help it.

He drags his head to the side to catch his breath, spit dribbling down his chin and smeared across his face as Lance catches on a thrust too late. 

“Fuck me,” he pants, not bothering to look up because he’s almost positive he knows what he’ll see.

Lance’s fingers untangle from his hair, only to grip back in warningly with one hand, blunt fingernails on his scalp. “What?”

But Keith wants it, “I said fuck me,” and can’t help the near whine that escapes him when Lance uses the grip to yank his head back by the hair, his eyes squeezing shut in a wince as he’s forced to face up at him.

“What, you think I’m gonna do it just because you asked for it?”

Keith’s adam’s apple bobs in the span of his bared neck, something like defiance flaring inside of him. But he doesn’t say anything. Because he  _ wants _ . And he knows Lance  _ would  _ drop the act and just fuck him if he asked him to but that’s not it. At all. It’s the  _ chase _ that Keith wants - the sinfully arousing way Lance’s hands feel so good on him when he lets go of his hair to bend down and pick him up, carrying him across the room only to toss him onto the bed, Keith’s body not having a chance to bounce off the mattress because Lance is right there - in his space - taking both his hands and pulling to pin them over his head again.

He’s leaving all these heated bites across Keith’s chest and Keith groans through it, so hard that it’s starting to hurt. He rocks his hips up for some friction but is instantly denied, Lance’s other hand dropping to hold him down by the hip and smirk at his frustration.

“Fuck. C’mon Lance,” Keith grits, but is only met with a teasing chuckle. 

“Needy needy needy,” he hums, almost to himself, and Keith doesn’t know why the fuck he finds it hot that his needs are being trivialized but  _ god _ .

He can’t take it anymore. He has to do it - has to roll his body and try to get out from under him so he can find some release. But it only works for a second before Lance is catching on, grabbing him midway and stopping him in his tracks with an amused “Ah ah ah…”, Keith’s body flipped around so his back is flush against Lance’s chest.

“Lie down.”

“Lance-”

“Lie. Down.”

Keith huffs, aggravated but unable to deny the fact the he’s never been so turned on in his life. “Make me.”

The reaction is immediate, Lance pushing him from behind and Keith falling face-first into the pillow, his grumble of pain muffled as his arms are twisted back and held behind him. It stings almost as bad as the hand that cracks against his ass cheek out of nowhere, Keith’s entire body tensing and his head lifting, a surprised moan slipping past his lips out into the open air. 

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“It’s funny that you think you have a say,” Lance teases -  _ laughs.  _

It works its way down to Keith’s dick without even trying. And it’s true that he could get that friction now - could just rut up against the bed with how he’s positioned. But.

“Open up,” Lance is saying again, and Keith doesn’t understand until he feels the fingers pressing at his lips from behind. “Let’s go shorty, make ‘em wet.”

Keith hesitates - waits a second too long for Lance’s liking because he earns another slap, his ass stinging and body tensing. But fuck, does it feel good - something Keith didn’t even realize he was into but it makes  _ sense _ , he guesses, letting his mouth drop open and sucking in Lance’s pointer and middle fingers not because he doesn’t want to be spanked again, but because he can’t guarantee he isn’t going to come right on the spot if he is. 

He busies himself with it, sliding his tongue between and around his slender fingers as Lance pulls his pants down from behind, no doubt admiring the redness he’s left there. 

“Hurt?” he asks, his smirk clear. And when Keith nods, fingers in his mouth, he chuckles. “Good,” and then drags his teeth over the heated skin.

Keith can’t help the sound he lets out around Lance’s fingers, or the way the heat pulsates when he realizes there’s no actual need for Lance’s fingers to be wet because both he and Keith are already slick like they are every time. He’s doing it just to do it - just to put Keith in a compromising position.

That fucker.

“That’s enough,” Lance says, pulling his fingers from Keith’s mouth and then using his pointer to trace around Keith’s entrance.

It’s teasing and terrible and Keith can feel himself start to lose it. “Lance I swear to god if you don’t just do it…”

“Yeah?” he practically coos, leaning down to brush his lips against Keith’s ear. “Then what? What’ll you do?”

Keith grits his teeth, the sensation too much. “I’ll fuc--NNG!” Both fingers push into him without warning, cutting him off completely and the sweet pleasure-pain of it sending his resolve into spiraling ruin. 

Especially as Lance continues without taking a second to wait, a dark smirk on his lips as he talks over the noises. “M’sorry what was that? Didn’t quite catch what you said.”

But Keith’s head is buried deep in the pillow, certain that the noises coming out of him would ruin any shred of dignity he still has. It hurts, but it hurts like he needs it to, the desperation to rut against the bed almost overwhelming as the heat between his legs gets dangerously close to spilling over. 

And it’s now or never. Now or never. Now or never.

“Fuck me or it’s gonna be too late,” he grits out, brows furrowed almost angrily because fuck Lance - fuck Lance - fuck fuck fuck-

The transition from fingering to fucking is almost seamless and it’s got Keith burying his face back into the pillow, his body jerking from the intensity as Lance snaps his hips, a hand gripping his waist and the other still holding Keith’s arms behind his back. 

“So...fucking...needy.” Lance punctuates every word with a heavy thrust, holding the last one and leaning even further in until he bottoms out. “Bet you want me to jerk you off too, huh?”

Keith’s eyes shoot open, the possibility sounding like bliss to his ears as he lifts his head from the pillow. 

Lance’s speed picks back up and doesn’t falter, even as the smirk he casts down on him turns deadly. “Mm, gotta say it though.”

“F-...fuck-”

“Gotta  _ say it _ .”

Keith swallows the noises trying to betray him, his lips forming a tight line and his face feeling like it’s on fire as his body continues to pitch forward from the relentless hip snaps. But he needs it. He needs the release. He needs it so fucking bad that he just gives in, his words fumbling together in the most embarrassing way possible. “Touchme-fuckjusttouchme-”

But it works. It fucking works because the hand keeping his waist down disappears and then reaches around to grab him, only needing to give him a few jerks before Keith is coming - white and gold and black exploding behind his eyelids and the pleasure rocking through his body so heavily that he swears to god he blacks out for a second - pure nothingness - and then everything all at once and he can’t hear a thing but he can see the arms that are wrapping around him and feel the body stilling above him - more heat - more warmth - and it’s fucking otherworldly. 

Astronomical. 

A spiritual experience that the Ceremony of Light has nothing on.

 

* * *

 

Waking up in a gargantuan bed with the sun streaming in through beautiful windows is nice and all, but it doesn’t numb the obvious ache from a night of purposefully rough sex, Keith realizes with a groan as he attempts to stand and is met with only an ass-full of pain.

Worth it, though? Are the telling limp and embarrassing discomfort worth it?  Yes. Especially when you have a nice bath that you can soak in until you have to carry out your obligations.  Which is exactly what Keith does, without shame, only removing himself from the water when he hears Shiro’s third warning knock from the hallway.

The rest of the day goes smoothly: lunch with some diplomats that Keith only unintentionally insults twice - some time to discover other alcoves in the garden with Pidge - and even a fitting for special robes that are to be worn at tonight’s celebration, after the alliance is formed of course.

Speaking of forming alliances, they manage to get through it with flying colors, much to Allura’s satisfaction. Turns out the king is pretty much only good for grand, rambling goddess ceremonies, while the queen does all the rest of the important stuff that keeps the planet from spiraling into disaster. It makes for an easy dialogue, the queen more than willing to grant Ahtian aid to the Paladins of Voltron.

“Especially when one of them was gracious enough to nearly sacrifice their life for my son,” she says, specifically.

And Keith side-glances with a smirk over to where Lance is already casting him a long-suffering and unimpressed blink. He’s still bitter about the bath.

A lot of good things happen today.

And then the celebration happens.

“Awful lotta people…” Pidge notes skeptically from Keith’s side, both of their robes feeling odd but blending them in with the rest of the guests enjoying themselves in the grand throne room. 

Or at least, they would, if Keith and Pidge were also all six and a half feet tall, had opaque white skin, and looked like they could carry half the room out on one shoulder without breaking a sweat.

“Petition for just Hunk and Shiro to represent Voltron at all remaining alien parties...” Pidge deadpans. “All those in favor say aye.”

“Aye,” Keith agrees unenthusiastically as he scans the many many  _ many  _ people who face him and then politely turn away when they're caught staring. “Petition for that petition to include  _ this  _ party?”

“Nah, can’t be this one.”

“Why?”

“Uh, ‘cause you’re the great big hero everyone’s excited about since you saved the prince?”

Keith rolls his eyes as they fix on where Hunk is currently making friends with at least half a dozen people at once. Like it’s easy or something. “Who cares? Hunk and Shiro were the ones who protected the  _ king _ . That’s way more important.”

“Weren’t you listening during the alliance meeting?” Pidge grabs a questionable appetizer from a passing tray and chomps down, explaining through a mouthful. “The king’s basically the Ahtian version of that weird old president that people pretend to respect but ignore because he’s old and crazy.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “Name  _ one  _ president like that.”

“Point is no one cares about him. The prince, they  _ do  _ care about. And since you saved him…” Pidge’s voice trails off on a high-end - suggestive. When Keith raises an eyebrow, they slip right back into that deadpanned drone. “You’re staying.”

Keith huffs, crossing his arms and trying to formulate a game-plan to make the night go faster. Something. Anything. Because so far nothing’s coming to mind.

Soon, it doesn’t matter. “Oh look at that. You’re boyfriend’s coming.”

Keith fixes Pidge with an unamused stare. “Hilarious. Lance isn’t my boyfriend.” 

But it’s a look of confusion, then deep thought, and then slowly developing interest that he’s met with as Pidge simply grins, “Wasn’t talking about Lance,” and then hops down the steps to disappear into the crowd.

Keith turns in confusion, unsure of what just happened until he sees the person in question approaching him, robes flowing elegantly with every step.

The prince.

Oh shit, Keith just fucked up big time.

“Ah, there you are.” The black face paint drawn under his eyes grabs Keith’s attention first - four even dots and then a curling line dancing from the far corners of both grey eyes. “It is wonderful to see you again. I feel as though I didn’t have enough time to properly thank you during our last meeting.”

Keith kickstarts his brain - forces himself to talk. “Oh… Oh it’s...not a big deal.”

The prince chuckles, the way his eyes sparkle much more pronounced now than before. “Well of course it is. You’d carried out your actions so bravely that I had almost mistaken you for an Ahtian soldier.”

Keith readjusts the translator earpiece, knowing that he should be focusing on talking to the fucking prince of the planet they just formed an alliance with, but what just happened with Pidge is putting up a good fight for his attention in his head.

“I apologize. I make you uncomfortable,” the prince is saying somewhere far-off, his tone more reserved as he bows his head and takes a step back. “I fear I wear my emotions too close to my heart. Please enjoy the rest of the celebration. And thank you again.”

Keith fully zones back in at the last possible second -  _ shit _ \- internally panicking and scrambling to keep the conversation going before the prince can completely turn- “Your name’s Rahvi,” he blurts, unsure even when those gray eyes are back on him, “...right?”

The prince is silent for a moment, but then smiles curiously, his posture returning to normal. “It is.”

“You know Kreah.” Good. Keep going, Keith. “Aren’t you guys friends?”

The prince -  _ Rahvi  _ \- nods, his curiosity seeming to peak. “We are. How do you know of her?”

“I uh-...ran into her in the garden. She must’ve been here to see you.”

“Ah…” He’s dropped into something thoughtful. “Yes…”

Keith adjusts the positioning of the celebratory robes on his shoulders, itching for something to fill the silence as the young man in front of him seems to lose himself in thought. It’s awkward being on the other end of it. He realizes that now.

Off in the distance, his ears pick up on the distinct sound of Lance’s laughter. Not the honestly amused kind, but the one where he’s with a lot of people and is trying to make a good impression. Keith’s eyes scan the crowd for him as he readjusts the fabric over himself.

“You look quite the part tonight, I must say,” Rahvi muses back in reality, that thoughtful smile now directed at Keith. “Your robes do fit you gloriously.”

“Really?” Keith is doubtful. “It feels like I’m not wearing them right.”

“Oh you are - no need to worry. In fact I’m sure there isn’t a thing in this galaxy that wouldn’t fit your body stunningly.”

Keith forces a tiny grin but then stalls, the gears in his head slowing.

Wait.

Did he just hit on him?

“Perhaps when the celebration is through, you might allow me to take you to one of our finest clothiers, so that you may try on something to your liking instead.” His proposition is ended with an “Oh,” as he plucks a glass from the tray of drinks that floats past. “If you’d like,” he offers with a tiny bow of his head. “I noticed you were without one.”

It’s a lot to decipher the meaning of all at once, Keith hesitating before taking the petite, shallow glass from where it’s held out toward him. The smell of it has flashes of fake strawberry and orange-lime coming to mind, making his next question of the utmost importance. “Is this alcohol?”

“Alcohol?” Rahvi repeats, brows furrowing in honest confusion.

“Yeah, uh…” Okay what would Ahtian’s call alcohol? “When you drink it you get dizzy and sometimes act weird?”

The gears seem to turn in the prince’s own head before he nods in understanding, crying “Ah,” and then some word that must have the same meaning in Ahtian but Keith can’t understand it even with the translator. Slang then, probably. But: “Oh no. No, it isn’t. Would you  _ like  _ some?”

“No.” Keith’s response is quick and adamant. 

It pulls a chuckle from him. “I see. Very well. If there  _ is  _ anything you would like, please let me know. I’ve seen even the oddest of requests fulfilled at gatherings such as these.”

Keith nods, awkward as he swallows the tiny drink in one gulp and sets it back on the tray. “Thanks.” And it’s just in time for Rahvi’s attention to fix on something just behind his shoulder, his posture slipping into something oddly reminiscent of the look Shiro gives Lance and Hunk when they’re doing something Lance-and-Hunk-ish. 

“My apologies, but you’ll have to excuse me,” he practically drones, attention still fixed. “Please enjoy what we have to offer in the meantime.”

Keith turns, honestly pretty curious as to what the hell’s got the prince so flustered, and it clicking when he sees the king speaking loudly with a group of Ahtian’s who look to be around the same age as his son. 

Ah.

Keith is ready to mumble his understanding when his hands are being swept up - gathered so gently in Rahvi’s own as they’re brought up to his lips, Keith’s eyebrows raising in honest surprise as the prince kisses both, very gently, and then utters: “I’m certain our paths will cross again before the evening is through,” before smiling warmly and then taking his leave.

It happens very quickly. Very smoothly. And Keith has to say the awkward heat in his cheeks isn’t from how warm it’s suddenly gotten. 

Okay. Maybe...the prince  _ is  _ hitting on him.

“Breaking News: guess who just secured a bathtub for their room? It's me, if you're wondering. Jealous? ...Keith? Hey!”

Keith startles at the fingers snapping in front of his face, blinking over to where Lance has now appeared at his side, peeved but not overly so. 

“Man you are  _ zonin’  _ tonight.” He’s running on all cylinders - a natural high from being in this bustling social environment that he seems to thrive in. You can see it in his smile - in his eyes, sparkling even under the face paint that he catches Keith staring at with a grin. “Mm - you likey? Mezza did it for me.”

“Who?”

“Mezza,” he repeats, already searching the moving bodies until his finger points to one specific girl, “Her. She's pretty cool - real easy to talk to.” The golden bracelets fall gracefully around her wrist as she spots Lance and grants him a wave. “Apparently it's some big honor for someone to put face paint on you here. I'm surprised your hot alien boytoy didn't hook you up with any yet.”

Keith feels the full-body groan coming before it happens, his head tipping back in aggravation as Pidge’s words from before echo in his brain. “Ugh, you too?”

But Lance is far from swayed. “Oh please. Dude is crushin’ on you  _ mad _ hard. Even  _ you _ should be able to tell.”

“No he's not.”

“Oh no, not at all. _ ‘Oh Keith, you are the light of my life’ _ ,” he mocks, posture drooping into something lovey dovey as he takes Keith’s hands in his own, “ _ ‘I wish you would carry my weird alien babies in your belly. _ Mwah! Mwah!” It’s the over-the-top way he pretends to smack kisses on the tops of Keith’s hands that has Keith finally pulling them away with a scoff, Lance’s smirk teasing. “Yeah I saw it walkin’ up. Don't try to pretend like it never happened.”

“You're disgusting.”

“And you're oblivious. But I can't say I'm not surprised.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you're just upset that you're not the one getting attention.”

“Yeah, totally. That's definitely it. And hey, speaking of crazy-rough sex-”

“Were we?”

“-how's your ass? Because my lower back is killing me after last night.”

The heat returns to Keith’s face like  _ that _ , the scowl he throws him deadly. “Can you  _ not?  _ Can we just get through  _ one  _ fucking thing without you setting us off?”

Lance’s smile grows with the chuckle that follows. “Funny, ‘cause I’m pretty sure  _ you’d  _ be the one setting us off judging by how loud you w-”

“Stop,” he snaps, closing his eyes but resisting the urge to put his fingers in his ears like a child. Because yes. Last night was fucking great, okay? Yes. It was. But now is not the time to think and/or talk about it. 

Thankfully enough, Lance’s attention span is thinning, causing him to latch onto something else as he moves forward - “-ooo, hang on, I've been tryna catch this tray of pink stuff all night.” - and then bounds off in the direction of his prize, leaving Keith to run a hand over his face in an attempt to calm himself.

Just breath. 

Take a few breaths.

Everything’s fine.

Keith lets his eyes drop back open, annoyed until the face connected to the movement towards him doesn’t match up to who he’s expecting.

But...“That was fast,” he finds himself saying, none other than the prince reappearing in front of him.

“Yes. It appears the situation was able to be handled much quicker than expected. Which works well in everyone’s favor,” his smile turns hopeful, “I believe…?”

The way he leaves it open at the end sounds like he’s looking for something, but Keith doesn’t get it - affirmation maybe? It  _ is _ good that he dealt with his shit quickly. Fuck it. “Uh...yeah. Yeah, it is.” 

It must be the right thing to say, because the hope in Rahvi’s smile lifts into something like relief, a circular disk rotating confidently now in his hands.

Keith can’t bite down his curiosity. “What is that?”

“Oh. Another thing that worked out in our favor, it seems.” 

The disk fits snugly in the palm of his hand as he presents it with a playful toss, and Keith’s next question is on the tip of his tongue when Lance’s voice eases back into the conversation as he returns, apparently not noticing the new presence until several thoughts later.

“...-bathtub like nobody's business. Oh! What’s shakin’, your majesty?”

And suddenly Keith feels very cornered for a reason he can’t explain.

Rahvi nods to him, welcoming, but eyes narrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry. ...’shaking’?”

“Ignore him,” Keith insists, noting that Lance can’t be bothered by it in the least when his attention is more focused on the fluffy pink appetizer he scored. “What were you saying?”

The prince must accept that this is a common interaction between the two of them, because he falls back into their previous discussion without mentioning it further. “Right. I must say, at first I was astounded by your bare face.” Keith’s insulted eyebrow quirk has him chuckling sweetly, obviously taking a moment to explain himself further. “You’ve yet to be painted.” Oh. “What I mean to say is, perhaps it is fate that no one has offered to do this for you.”

Something in Keith’s stomach gurgles awkwardly, “Fate?” - Lance’s sigh of well-fed satisfaction not enough to cut the tension. Because:

“Yes. I was hoping...perhaps you would permit  _ me  _ to?” 

_ Oh _ .

Keith pauses, that embarrassed flush no doubt returning to his face. Damn it. He can’t even  _ look  _ at Lance right now. Not with how it’s already clear he’s adopted that smug look of ‘I told you so’ - Keith can see it out of the corner of his eye. 

“That is to say…” the prince’s tone is slipping into something more guarded, “...if you would rather someone else did the honors…”

“No,” Keith pushes himself, proud of how calm he’s keeping his voice - how even. “No, I’d-...I would like that.” 

He doesn’t know why he says it. Why he says it like  _ that _ , in particular. But he has to ignore it, as well as the look Lance is probably giving him, because the prince is moving along with a warmly pleasant “Wonderful...” - twisting the disk in his hands and then dipping his pointer finger into the black paint that’s revealed in the middle.

It feels instantly cool on Keith’s skin when it touches down, the prince’s finger dotting gracefully across his cheekbones as Keith stands there, suddenly very warm under the gaze of two interested parties as it happens - slow, deliberate strokes across his face. And all at once, Lance grows very still beside him.

Keith swallows, a sourness in his chest as the prince glides the paint down the bridge of his nose, then the tip, and then stops at his mouth, the pad of his finger lingering delicately against Keith’s bottom lip before drawing back.

It’s a moment that stretches much longer in his head than it probably should, and the eyes on him - waiting - have his skin feeling too tight for his body.

“Think I hear Hunk callin’ for me.” It’s Lance who speaks first, Keith’s eyes darting to try to meet his but it’s too late, Lance is already taking a step back, gaze purposefully elsewhere as he bows shortly, “Your majesty,” and then turns.

He vanishes into the crowd of bodies before Keith can react - before he can reach out or stop him or ask what the  _ hell  _ kind of voice that was because he almost-...if Keith isn’t mistaken-

“Everything is...alright?”

The concern in the prince’s voice is honest, as is the way his eyes follow Lance’s getaway, but Keith can't shake the intrusive pull in his brain to redirect -  _ protect. _

“Yeah, he's fine.” He aims for control and nails it again, _ somehow _ , gesturing instead toward the drying paint on his face. “Can I see what it looks like?”

His request lingers for a moment, the prince processing, but then he nods with a grin. “Of course. Please follow me.”

 

_-_-_

 

The noise from the celebration thins the further the hallway leads them away, Keith following silently until they come to a stop at the end, or more specifically, the full-length mirror that takes up the entire wall.

It's farther away than Keith expects, but it does its job of distracting them from Lance, so it almost doesn't matter.

“What do you think?” Rahvi asks, drawing Keith’s attention to their reflections. 

The mirror isn't glass - more like a liquid than anything - the calmed but glistening surface of a pond.

It's clear enough to see the dark drawn circles that mimic the ones under the prince’s eyes - “Not bad.” - the contouring of the bridge of his nose - “We...sort of match…”

Well, the face paint at least. The mirror shimmers a dull blue, Keith looking so short and compact next to the tall, lean-muscled prince.

It's what makes what Rahvi says next so unexpected, “You would truly make an impressive leader.”

Like... _ very  _ unexpected. Because look at him compared to everyone else here. Even the style of his celebratory robes make him look slight in stature, the fabric collecting at his shoulders and giving way to bare skin until it collects again at his wrists - thin and delicate compared to the Ahtian beside him. But, he thinks Keith would make a good leader. “Really?”

Rahvi tilts his head a bit, serene as he gazes at their reflections, “Your bravery and quick thinking are far from the only favorable qualities you posses,” then his composed eyes focus on Keith. “Anyone lucky enough to have you at their side would be both fortunate and great.”

It could just be bullshit. He could just be saying this to flatter Keith quickly and easily, but there's something about it - about the warm sincerity behind every single thought-out word - that registers in Keith’s brain as absolute honesty. 

It’s... _ nice _ , actually. 

He feels the corner of his mouth start to softly quirk up when it hits. The heat. The curl. The tingle in his fingertips. 

Keith blinks, thrown off to say the least.

He-...  _ He  _ didn't do that, did he?

“Does what I say bother you?”

He must see it on his face but no. No, what's bothering Keith right now is the fact that he can't tell - that he isn't 100% sure that it was Lance that just set them off and not himself. But why? Why would he be the one? All from a little praise? “No,” he clears his throat. “It's just...some of the paladins think you favor me over them.”

Rahvi faces him, collected. “Is that so wrong?”

But the heat’s rolling in. Quick and far-reaching. “Guess I'm just not used to it.”

Especially when the prince reaches down, “I see,” tilting Keith’s face up by his chin, his thumb rubbing gently at the paint just below his lower lip. “Well in my opinion, you should  _ become  _ used to it.” His hand is warm - fingers spreading a seeping fire as he leans in a bit, voice lower but not any less well-intentioned. “I could assist you if you’d like.”

Keith blanks. Lips parted. Words stuck. Because this is-... Jesus, he-... “As uh... _ generous _ as that sounds,” there's a slight strangle in his voice, “I think I uh-... I think I need a breather.”

He needs Lance.

Rahvi’s eyes travel over Keith’s face, searching. But then: “Of course. Take all the time you need.” 

And he says it so calmly and with such acceptance that Keith doesn't even really feel that bad when he turns away from the mirror, heading back down the hall without another word.

The prince doesn't follow him.

 

_-_-_

 

It's really kicking in by the time Keith makes it back to the party, the waves swelling with the music that he almost doesn't even notice, legs burning with every step up to the landing where he can look out into the sea of people.  Some of them are dancing to the deep beat that the Ahtian musicians are providing from a makeshift stage, their bizarre instruments still shining in the lower lighting. It's becoming clearer and clearer that Keith missed some sort of transition while he was gone.

But he keeps at it, focus heightening even as his body starts to betray him. Because he needs to find Lance - needed to find Lance like  _ ten minutes ago _ because this is a fucking big one. 

Hunk is the closest and routinely the most helpful, laughing loudly about something as Keith approaches him.

“Hunk, you seen Lance?”

“Huh? Oh hey Keith. I dunno where he is. Why, do you nee-”

“When’d you see him last?”

Hunk consults the ceiling, scratching his head as he does so. “Uhhh...maybe like...half an hour ago?”

“Where?”

“Right here- hey are you alright? You look-”

“Okay thanks.” Keith doesn't even let him finish. Knows he's an asshole for it. But now’s not the time.

He couldn't spot Lance from the landing, but maybe he can here, in the thick of things, bodies blocking the way but easing to the side as he slides past him. The burn in his gut is impossible to ignore, lit brighter by every innocent brush of someone else’s skin.

He needs to find Lance. 

The Ahtian beat rumbles low in his chest, a drop of sweat gliding down the side of his face as he moves, brows knit and eyes forward.

He needs to find Lance.

Someone bumps into him from behind but he ignores their apology because-

He needs to find Lance. He needs to find Lance. He needs to find Lan-

The natural part in the crowd breaks, Keith’s body freezing and everything whirring to a slow buzz around him.

Because there he is. There's Lance, emerging from a side hallway, grin satisfied and posture relieved and almost as smooth as...the girl at his side...walking back in with him...the girl who did his face paint.

Something in Keith’s stomach sours.

He can't move.

His lungs are too tight.

Lance walks right past him none the wiser, saying something nondescript to the girl as she smiles and then goes her separate way and Keith  _ snaps _ .  He moves without thinking, breaking free from the crowd and latching onto Lance’s wrist so he can pull him back into the hallway because  _ what the fuck is he _ -

“Whoa,” Lance chuckles, clearly not understanding until they stumble to a stop and he  _ sees _ Keith’s face because then- “O-oh… You're still…”

“Yeah.” He knows he's snapping. He knows but he doesn't give a shit. “Looks like  _ you  _ aren't though.”

Because how the hell could this happen? How could Lance-

“I didn't think it would be a problem!” He’s backpedaling now, hands up in surrender. “Why are you so mad? What, were you waiting for me or something?”

Keith glares. Of course he was waiting for him. Of fucking course he was because- “I just- I just thought doing this was-…” ... _ our thing _ , he wants to say, but it won't come out. His pride won't let it. 

Lance’s hands fall, his expression following into something knowing regardless. And when he says it, it's so quiet that it makes Keith's chest hurt. “Dude… I didn't-... Keith, I'm sor-”

“Whatever.” Keith's pulling back now. Betrayed by his emotions and his body and now- “Forget it.”

“Keith-”

“Don't!” 

He's already completely turned and storming off because fuck this.  _ Fuck _ this. He doesn't need Lance. Lance clearly doesn't need him. 

He plunges back into the crowd, his entire body functioning at a ten and the fire so hot inside him that it hurts. Even more than how stupid he feels - how childish.

One spark and he came running. Jesus, Keith was literally seconds away from getting with the prince but he left to find Lance instead but  _ whatever _ . If Lance wants to hook up with someone else that's fine. Completely fucking fine. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. 

Just like Keith.

“Prince Rahveon,” he calls out when he finds him, the prince turning with surprise at the sternness of his voice when he says it, eyelids heavy. “There  _ is _ something I want.”

 

_-_-_

 

The room he leads them to is huge - floor to ceiling columns and a pool of water in the center that gradually gets deeper and deeper.

Keith can't help but stare at the luxury of it, even as the warmth of arousal continues to battle the warmth of fresh anger. It distracts from the presence behind him, only registering when a warm hand smooths from the crook of his neck down to ease the fabric off his shoulder.

He panics - lurches away and around - and the prince is pulling his hand back just as quickly.

“I'm sorry. Is this not what you wanted?”

Keith blinks, deer in the headlights. Christ, he needs to calm down. Get with it. Just fucking  _ do  _ this thing because come  _ on.  _ It doesn't have to be Lance. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he breathes out, his shoulder and half his chest bared but eyes everywhere but forward. “This is what I want.”

But his heart is pounding uncomfortably hard - uncomfortably fast. And the sourness hasn't left his stomach since he saw what he saw at the party. And...and  _ fuck  _ he's so hard that his robes couldn't hide it even if he wanted them to.

Rahvi stays where he is. Benevolent. And then: “It’s quite alright. Perhaps if you allow me to go first...”

Keith waits before nodding, his voice stuck again. Because the moonlight glints across the prince’s snowy skin as he pulls at his own robes, the movement effortless as they pool at his feet, stretches of tight muscle and intimidating proportions pouring into Keith’s brain because he can't look away - can't look away - can't look away.

Rahvi steps toward him. There's no denying how embarrassingly flushed Keith’s face must be, but he must find it endearing instead of a turnoff because his hands are on the sides of his neck again - bright white heat - and…

And it doesn't have to be Lance.

It repeats in Keith's head like a mantra, even as he steps back,  _ just  _ backing away from the prince’s lips before they can press against his own.

It doesn't have to be Lance.

And he keeps backing up, step by step, then less and less, until his feet dip into the water in the center of the room - It doesn't have to be Lance - Keith’s lips finally parting...eyes finally closing...body finally opening up as the prince lowers him into the water beneath them.

_ It doesn't have to be Lance. _

 

_-_-_

 

In the end, when everything settles and sinks in and  _ is _ , Keith panics and lies and says that he doesn't feel good. Rahvi offers to watch after him but he politely refuses, taking refuge in the bathtub in his own room instead.

He lets the water work around him - tries to breathe normally - does his best to actually convince himself that he didn't fuck up at all because he  _ didn't. _

He's fine. Everything's fine. It's only natural. All he did was exactly what Lance did. And Lance may not have done it with the prince of the planet, but it's the principle. So he’s-...everything’s-...it's all okay. Right?

He doesn't know how long he's been soaking when the knock comes from his door, Lance’s voice on the other side making his chest tighten again.

_ “Hey Keith, you in there?” _

Keith draws his knees up. Wraps his arms around them. “What do you want.”

_ “I mean, you disappeared after getting super pissed at me, so I was just wondering where you ran off to.” _

“Well here I am.”

_ “Yeah. That’s...good then…” _

Keith frowns, the water sloshing against the sides of the tub as he lets his knees slide back down. 

_ “I uh...I guess I also wanted to say that I didn't mean to piss you off.”  _ Lance is talking again, his voice muffled by the thick stone of the door.  _ “When it hit us, I was like...dead certain that you were just gonna go with the prince. But now that I think about it, that's not something you would do at all, so…” _

He peters out at the end, giving Keith plenty of time to let his eyes fall to the reflection staring back at him from the water - the black inky smudges against his chest and neck and collarbone - the guilty smudge of his own paint on his lips that has Keith's stomach turning. 

Yeah. Definitely not something he would do. 

_ “Kinda insulting to your character, I guess. So...sorry.” _

It's the perfect opportunity for Keith to gain back some humility - to tell Lance that no, actually he caved and did exactly what Lance thought he'd do, even if it was his last resort. But he can't bring himself to do it, the coward that he is.

“It's fine.”

_ “Alright. Guess I'll just...see you tomorrow then...?” _

Another opportunity. Another way that Keith can get things back to the way they were. Invite him in. Make things normal.

But… “Yeah.”

And then there's some rustling.

And then Lance is gone.

Keith stares back down into the water, his reflection blinking back guiltily as he starts to scrub away at the shameful black.

 

* * *

 

They leave Ahtia without any further mishaps, the plush landscape growing smaller and smaller as Keith watches the castle lift off from the control room. 

The royal family is too busy with important royal family things to see them off.  That's just fine with Keith though. It saves him the continued teasing and the resulting embarrassment from it, even with the others having no idea about his night with the prince.

So off they float, back into the deep massiveness of space, far away from the drama that had occurred in only a matter of two days.

Or so...Keith  _ thinks _ .

“Wanna explain these?” Shiro asks him immediately when he enters the common area.

Keith blinks, tired, “What…” before his eyes land on the object in question sitting on the table - a gathering of pretty white flowers, their cream petals glowing and stems tied together with a golden tassel, all arranged in a slender black vase.

Oh.

“I can translate the note,” Allura suggests helpfully, although the piece of paper is already in her hand, the other paladins waiting on baited breath around her, almost as if they've all been waiting for Keith to walk in.

Keith frowns. “O...kay?”

The word is barely out of his mouth before she's whipping out a translator, holding it over the letter and reading out the words as she scrolls.

“It says ‘ _ My greatest warrior, it is with much regret that I was not able to see you off at your departure. _ ” She stops momentarily, her eyes flicking up curiously to where Keith is now turning an impressive shade of red. “ _ ‘Please accept these flowers from the Royal Garden until we are able to meet again. I look forward to hashing out the plans with you for our upcoming marriage.’”  _

Keith’s eyebrows skyrocket, doing his best to ignore the looks of shock that are being thrown at him from every possible direction. Because  _ what?   _ What the  _ fuck? _

“That has to be a mistake,” he stutters.

But: “It’s signed  _ ‘Rahvi’. _ ” And by the look of deep concentration on her face, Keith can tell he doesn't have much time until: “Rahvi. Prince Rahveon.”

Fuck.

“What?” Lance shouts it from his spot on the couch, leaning forward and mouth dropped open.

It's how Keith would look if he didn't think he still had a slight chance of weaseling his way out of this.

“...i-it's a mistake,” he tries very hard, but the sense of dread in his stomach is terrible. “I don't know how-... Maybe Ahtians have a weird way of-”

“ _‘The official marriage proposal of Ahtian royalty_ _is both romantic and visceral’,”_ Allura’s reading from something informational on the screen now, brows fixed. “ _‘...and involves coitus while emerged in the royal Vanishing Waters_. _Or...more specifically…’”_ she falters at what comes next, and Keith can only assume the worst as she finishes, _“‘...anal penetration…’”_

Lance is first to respond, loudly: “What the fuck!”

Followed by Hunk: “Holy crap, man.”

Followed by Pidge: “Wow Keith. Didn't think you had it in ya.”

And if the universe is as forgiving as he read about it being, Keith would be swallowed up into the floor by now. But it's not. And he's still here, face rivaling the deep red of his paladin suit behind the embarrassed way he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Because fuck him. Fuck everything. There’s so much to be devastated by right now and he just can't do it. 

It doesn't help, of course, when Hunk pipes up again, almost impressed. “Wait so...so this means Keith, you're gonna be a princess!”

It doesn't help one bit.

And Keith is still waiting for the floor to swallow him up.

It doesn't. Because fuck him.

* * *

 


	5. Wave Five

“What am I gonna to do? Shiro, what the  _ fuck  _ am I gonna do?”

“We’ll figure something out.”

They're in Shiro’s room, sort of because they need someplace to talk, but mostly because Shiro gets sick of Keith trying to pick a fight with every piece of machinery in the castle. So he sits him down with a blanket and one of Hunk’s homemade snack bars and hopes to god it gets him less grumpy.

“Ugh, I don’t know how this could’ve happened.” It's not working that great so far. “It has to be a mistake.” 

Shiro pulls at the laces of one of his boots, tone calculated. “I mean...you  _ did  _ mess around in holy marriage proposal waters.”

“How was I supposed to know that’s what they were?” Keith’s practically whining.

Shiro interjects with an: “Eat,” the corresponding bite Keith takes barely a bite, before continuing on. “You didn’t have  _ any  _ idea at all? The prince didn’t even mention it to you?”

“No! Well, I mean…” Okay, to be fair, “my translator might’ve...fallen out halfway through…” He mumbles through it, not proud. There's literally not one single thing about this that he  _ is  _ proud of.

Shiro plops his boots down by the door with a tired sigh, then leans against it so he can fix him with an annoyed look that only Keith can translate as ‘I love you but you drive me up the wall with your shit’.

It's not the first time he’s seen it, and it certainly won't be the last.

“Keith,” he starts, “you know I try not to judge you on the weird decisions you sometimes like to make, but...any  _ particular reason _ you decided to sleep with the prince of the planet we just aligned ourselves with?”

It's an honest question - one that deserves an honest answer. But  _ honestly, _ Keith doesn't think he has the mental strength to unload the whole aphrodisiac-space-flower thing on Shiro when he's already currently knee-deep in this whole marriage thing.

But he knows he has to say  _ something,  _ so he swallows the mouthful of snack bar and lets his eyes drop down to it, tone calm but telling. “Guess I've just been feeling...off...lately...”

“What kind of off?”

“Just off.”

“Mhm.” Here we go. “So when you say ‘lately’, I'm guessing you mean ‘every time Shiro’s asked me if I was okay and I said I was fine because I'm stubborn’.”

Keith fixes him with a frown. “You hover.”

It gets a telling gesture thrown his way. “Yeah, apparently for good reason. Keep eating.” Keith takes a begrudging bite, ripping it from the rest perhaps a bit too sassily. The sigh that makes its way from Shiro this time is more of a heavy release of breath than anything as he runs a hand across the back of his neck, eyes closing in exhaustion. “I'll talk to Allura and Coran about the proposal and see what they think. You, keep eating. And try to do something...less  _ mopey… _ ”

Keith huffs, crumbs now scattered across Shiro’s bed.

“Fine.”

 

_-_-_

 

The rec room is decidedly less mopey, Pidge typing away at something next to Lance as he tries to get the holoscreen version of a television in front of them working.

It’s  _ far  _ less mopey, actually. That is, until:

“Sup, princess.”

Keith feels the growl at the base of his throat before Pidge can interject, hauling both their laptop and themself from the couch with a defeated, “I’m out,” clearly not willing to participate in the banter that will no doubt follow.

It does. Quickly. “Shut the fuck up, Lance.”

“Wow. Angry.”

“I’m not the only one sulking around this ship.”

“‘Kay, but you’re the only one who’s engaged.”

Keith steps around the couch, not sure if he’s more irritated with Lance’s belittling tone or the fact that he’s yet to look at him.

That changes instantly. “It’s your fault that this even happened in the first place!”

“Say what?” Lance is standing at the drop of a hat, expression more floored than angry. “Hold up, how the heck is it  _ my  _ fault you slept with someone?”

“You did it first.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were hooking up with the prince.”

“Well I wasn’t.”

Lance throws his arms up in exasperation. “And how the hell was  _ I  _ supposed to know that?”

They’re just standing there now. Arguing. As usual. Keith is glad Pidge left for a number of reasons, both pertaining to them and himself. And they aren’t getting anywhere, not with Keith stewing over his own stupid mistakes and Lance stewing over whatever the fuck and-

“Okay okay, here. Let’s make a pact.”

Keith’s breath lets out in an aggravated but curious puff, his held tilting questioningly as he repeats it. “A pact?”

But Lance is already more steady - has already calmed himself down at a quick and successful pace that leaves Keith envious. “Yeah. Like-... Okay.” His posture eases, and then he presents it confident as ever. “Until we get back to that magic spring, no fooling around with other people.”

Keith watches the hand that reaches out and waits for him in the space between them. That sounds dangerously like someone proposing to go steady. But. But  _ yeah. _ Keith wants that - realizes now that he’s wanted that this whole time. So. “Fine,” he agrees quietly, meeting the handshake halfway. “Deal.”

The healthy/comfortable length of shaking on it is quickly blown through and left behind as a dot on the horizon, Keith feeling the awkwardness of it creep into his bones and leave him stiffly dropping his hand away. Because heaven fucking forbid he ever has a normal social interaction with anyone.

Apparently, though, it has no effect on Lance, because he’s moving onto something else without even mentioning it, much more interested in: “So how was it, though?”

Keith’s grateful, even if the redirection brings the warmth back to his cheeks as he turns. “I’m not talking about it.”

“That bad, huh?” He can hear the grin on Lance’s lips. 

“That’s not what I said.”

“Not technically-”

“...god-”

“-but you’d think someone would wanna dish on a hookup with royalty-”

“It’s not that it was  _ bad, _ okay, it just wasn’t you.” It slips out before he can reel the words back in, regret and dread seeping into his chest as he backpedals, eyes closing. “Damn it. Okay, before you get a huge head-”

“No no no, you already said it.” It’s too late, Lance is already throwing his hands up between them. “You already said I was a better lay than the prince of Ahtia. I’m framin’ that baby up here,” his grin widens as he taps his pointer finger to his temple - cashing it into his memory bank. “There’s no taking it back.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Why do I even talk to you...”

“Same reason why you’re obsessed with sleeping with me probably.”

“Wh-...” Keith flusters, eyes narrowing. “What does that even mean? Where are you even getting that information from?”

But Lance is on a roll that can’t be stopped. “I mean am I wrong?”

“I’m not  _ obsessed. _ ”

“Ah, but I fuck you better than a prince.”

Ugh. “Jesus, Lance.”

He taps at his temple one more time, solidifying that he will literally never let Keith forget what he said. “Framed for all eternity.”

Keith just shakes his head, looking to the ceiling even though he knows it doesn’t hold any promise of help for him. “Just my luck.”

 

_-_-_

 

Space is cold.

Colder than movies and books and all that shit likes to make you think it is. Colder than the desert nights Keith would spend on his own. The stars are pretty and the periodic bands of passing color are nice but at the end of the day, when Keith is just  _ lying there, _ just  _ being, _ he can feel the cold sink into every part of him. He pulls his blanket up to his chin, eyelids heavy as they rest on the ceiling with nothing to take his mind off of the current events - nothing to distract him from his own thoughts.

He’s accepted what happened. With Rahvi. And he’s also accepted that everyone’s probably hardcore judging him right now. But not everything is terrible, he guesses. At least now he and Lance are on the same general page about keeping this thing between them  _ between them. _ He has to admit, this new concept breathes a sigh of relief through his bundles of stress, even if it makes his chest do a weird fluttery thing. To be perfectly honest, he was stupid and didn’t even realize Lance sleeping with other people was a possibility until it happened. It wasn’t even a blip on his radar. So when it actually did…

Keith’s blanket settles at the bottom of his bed as he kicks it off to sit up, his legs hanging off the edge for a moment before a vague sort of energy pulls him out and down the darkened hall. He knows it’s Lance’s door that he’ll end up in front of, so when he does, his knocking is soft but resigned.

It’s late. Later than when things were switched that first time and Lance was the one waiting outside. But his door slides open all the same, first a bit - enough to peek through - and then wide enough to see that Lance is very much awake. He’s still in his day clothes but his hair is just a touch messier than normal as he stands there, waiting.

Keith takes the opportunity. “Hey. I know it’s late but...can I bum a drink?”

It’s not exactly poetry, but they’ve far surpassed the appropriate Earth-time designated for flowery speech. It’s a mutual thing, because Lance lets his door slide open just a bit more and then steps away, leaving room for Keith to follow him in without another word.

It’s cold in here too. Cold  _ everywhere.  _

He’s clicking the door shut behind them just as Lance makes his way over to the desk in the corner of his room, where-...where the bottle of space alcohol is already sitting out.

Keith’s gaze lifts to where Lance picks it up, tone even but something he doesn’t even recognize hiding beneath it. “...already started?”

Purple shimmers in the room’s dull glow - tiny glints and fractions of light. Lance shakes his head as he twists the cap open but doesn’t say anything, his unusual silence made even more unusual when he simply hands the bottle over without taking a drink for himself.

There’s hesitation in Keith’s movements, but he reaches out to accept it - cold fingers and cold glass. “Thanks…”

Artificial strawberry. 

Cobweb thoughts.

Cold cold cold cold  _ cold. _

They sit against the wall, backs resting and Lance’s head leaned back so he can look up at the ceiling. Or not look up. Keith doesn’t know because he doesn’t turn to see, the contact of their shoulders enough to almost coax out his self consciousness, if not for the calming chill of the alcohol.

But the urge to prod is still there, still lurking, still pulling at him because-

“Lance-”

“You’re not like... _ actually  _ gonna marry him, right?”

The words in Keith’s throat get stuck, caught off by the complete lack of tease in Lance’s tone. It’s... _serious._ Uncomfortable. He sloppily aims to pick it up. “Why, you jealous?” Because that’ll get him. That’ll poke at him enough to get the banter going and things back to normal.

Except.

Except it doesn’t.

Lance just sits there, head tipped back. And when Keith finally glances over, he can just make out the tired sincerity in Lance’s eyes - silent but vulnerable. It’s bizarre and uneasy and it curls something sour in Keith’s stomach. 

It needs to stop.

“Hey.” He moves slowly but consistently, reaching up to gently tap on the side of Lance’s head with his pointer finger. “What about this?” Because didn’t they just have a conversation about this a few hours ago?

Lance confirms it with the weakest trace of a smile. “Still framed.”

“So…”

“So there’s a difference between being better at fucking and being better at other stuff.”

Keith frowns, unsure. At least Lance is talking now. But there’s still that vulnerability there that he doesn’t know what to do with. “What...kind of other stuff?”

Lance doesn’t seem to know what to do with it either. “I dunno,” he mumbles. “More important stuff.”

“Like?”

“Like…” His head drops down, looking forward, and then towards where he speaks quietly to the floor. “Like...holding hands...maybe…”

The silence that drifts between them is different this time. Confusion morphing into some sort of shared exposure that leaves both of them in a space they’ve never occupied at the same time. They both barely fit, crowded in with their perceptions and concerns but still somehow left out in the open. 

But Keith is sick of feeling out of place in his own body - both alone and whenever Lance is close enough to touch - so he simply holds his hand out, palm up, and waits. “Alright. Lemme see.”

Lance regards it with a frown, but there’s curiosity there. “What?”

“You wanna know if you’re better at holding hands, right?” Keith explains calmly, and when he gets a nod in response, he wiggles his fingers a bit. “Lemme see.” 

Lance pauses for a moment, probably thrown off by the suddenly outgoing nature of the resident sulker, but then he slowly lifts his hand, and then settles it on top of Keith’s.

It’s awkward at first. A little forced. But then Keith takes control and laces their fingers together - twists their hands at the wrist so Lance’s is on the bottom and then the top again - pretends to weigh them in the air with a considering: “Hm…” and a few bounces before keeping them still and deciding: “Yeah. I’d say you’re definitely better.” It pulls the corners of Lance’s mouth into an almost shy smile, pressing Keith to continue. “What else?”

And there’s definitely some confidence returning now, Lance’s smile curling. “How ‘bout kissing?”

Keith resists the urge to jokingly roll his eyes. “We both already know you’re better at that.”

But he can tell it’s an instant ego boost, Lance finally meeting his eyes. “Well...maybe we could double-check?”

It’s cute. Keith’s a little annoyed at  _ how  _ cute. “Okay.” But he doesn’t have much time to dote on it, because now Lance’s face is already so very close without moving an inch. So close that Keith can count every one of his dark eyelashes if he wants to. So close that he can see the reflection of the overhead lights in his pupils. So close, that it’s only now that Keith’s realizing that this is happening on its own, unprompted by the pulsing heat or overwhelming need. It’s just... _ happening…  _

The lump that rises in Keith’s throat is sudden, accompanied by a full and sinking feeling pulling in his chest, deeper and heavier as the space between their lips starts to draw close. And suddenly these things inside him are very overwhelming, his eyes nearly shut and his voice cropping up at the very last second, “...Lance...?” because he has to say it -  _ it  _ \- he doesn’t know what  _ it  _ is but he-... 

Lance waits patiently, “Hm…?” his breath fanning against Keith’s mouth. 

But Keith can’t get it out.  _ It.  _ Whatever the hell  _ it _ is. So he kisses him instead - slowly presses forward and brushes his lips against Lance’s and it’s... _ calm... _ ...deliberate… ...raises the lump in his throat, drags his heart all the way through the floorboards and into the emptiness of outer space beneath them, and-

And.

And...

Lance is grinning into it - out of it when they pull back. 

Keith can’t look at him.

“Well?”

And he has to swallow down the lump in his throat to speak. “You already know you won.” Because he’s having a hell of a time keeping calm right about now, several realizations pinging off in his brain all at once as Lance says something next to him that he doesn’t catch.

But Lance is happy. His insecurity has been snuffed out. And.

Keith grabs the bottle now being offered to him and takes a generous gulp.

Oh No™.

 

* * *

 

Oh  _ No  _ ™.

 

* * *

 

Oh  _ Noooo™ _ .

 

* * *

 

Several oh no’s later, a plan has been formed to address the marriage proposal. It’s not a very elaborate plan, or a particularly  _ good  _ plan, but it  _ is  _ a plan. And that’s how the castle finds itself doing a 180, headed straight around and Keith stepping back onto Ahtian soil with a great sense of dread. 

Rahvi is waiting in the alcove of the garden with the glowing pink flowers, exactly where they plan to meet up with each other. His robes are as pristinely white as Keith remembers them being, but the warmness in his smile has receded into something more subtle.

“You’re here to call off the wedding,” he says peacefully, but no amount of regality can mask his disappointment. 

Both the bluntness and accuracy of his statement give Keith pause. Oh. “You… How’d you know?”

It pulls a soft chuckle from the prince. “Your reluctance is rather obvious. Both today and the night of our celebration.”

Ah. Keith lets his attention drop to the flowers glowing at his side. It’s not rare that he feels like an asshole, but right now he feels like a royal asshole, no pun intended. “I didn’t really understand what we were doing...like, the actual gravity of the situation.” Yep. A royal fucking asshole. “I just-... With Voltron and the whole nobility thing…” He sighs. “It’s not possible.”  

Rahvi gathers his hands behind his back, the wind that carries the sweet smell of the garden dancing between the folds of his robes. “I understand. It was a hope of mine, it seems, that was doomed from the start. Perhaps if Father hadn’t been so insistent on finding a suitor…”

He’s in his own head again, white skin shimmering in the sun’s rays. 

Keith knows all about that. And suddenly, the moment from the celebration where Rahvi had excused himself to put an end to the king’s mingling makes more sense. “He’s trying to marry you off.”

Rahvi exhales a laugh through his nose. “Of course.” And it’s proper but undeniably bitter, something else Keith knows all about. “That’s not important, however. There’s still the matter of the wedding to handle.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mother will accept your cancellation with grace, as she does with most things. Father, however…” Rahvi takes a step forward, coming closer and the volume of his voice dropping into something intriguingly hushed. “The old beliefs state that one cannot simply end a royal marriage proposal on a whim. There’s a certain sanctity that must be upheld.”

The old beliefs. Great. “So...what do I have to do?”

“You must be pardoned. It is a verbal exchange between yourself and a high priestess that results in the annulment of the proposal.”

Keith nods. Talk to some lady and get let off the hook. Easy enough. “Alright, where do I find one?”

As if on cue, Rahvi’s expression falls into something careful, as does his tone. It’s enough to get that dread in Keith’s gut to start up again. “This is...the problem. In his pursuit to ensure a marriage for his son, Father has ordered all of the Ahtian high priestesses to refuse annulment requests. All,” he takes a deep breath, “save for one.”

It’s loaded, how he says it. And why does Keith suddenly have a very bad feeling about this? 

“Unfortunately, you will have to go Underground. There, you will find a high priestess that has escaped my father’s ruling and is still able to grant pardons.”

Underground? “Why does that sound dangerous?”

“Not dangerous, so much that it is...questionable to those who are used to the conservative nature of Ahtian rule.” He chooses his words carefully, which begs the question…

“So...I’m assuming that’s your way of saying it’s where the rebels are coming from?” He doesn’t get an answer. Which means yes. “If it’s shady then how do  _ you  _ know about it?” And maybe it’s not Keith’s place to ask, but he realized a long time ago that there’s something separating the prince and the rest of the Ahtians, including the king.

“I suggest an inconspicuous scouting of the area before attempting to meet with the high priestess. There are customs that one must follow to be granted an audience with her.”

Keith’s head is spinning. “Can’t  _ you  _ just tell me?”

But the prince is taking a step back then, therefore signalling that that’s all Keith will be getting out of him on the matter. It makes sense, he guesses. The prince of the planet probably shouldn’t be discussing rebel matters out in the open like this. But still.

“Rahvi…”

“You’ll be alright.” His smile is back as he walks around him to the opening in the wall of hedges, more honest now. Confident. “After all, you  _ are  _ the bravest warrior I know,” he says, their shoulders brushing as he passes. “Even if you are not mine.”

And then he’s gone.

And Keith is standing there, that feeling of regret returning.

He truly is a royal asshole.

 

_-_-_

 

Keith returns to the ship with the new information, relaying all the most important parts and saving the more personal ones for himself.

Shiro and Hunk scout out the specified area while the rest of them wait on it, Pidge squirreling themself away in Green’s bay and Keith finding himself unable to leave Lance alone, which prompts a recurring pattern of:

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you following me?”

“As if I’d follow  _ you. _ ”

They dance around each other until they’re called to the debriefing room at Shiro and Hunk’s return, the two of them crowding around a holoscreen projection of the blueprints they managed to scan.

“So here’s the thing…” Shiro starts out, seemingly unsure of how to go about this. “This whole ‘going Underground’ thing...it’s…”

“It’s more like a huge crazy rave!” Hunk takes over with much more ambition, his eyebrows fixed into something passionate as he speaks. “Basically it’s this gigantic club where everyone tries to get the priestess’s attention at once. But there’s gotta be some sort of criteria, right? She’s not just picking people at random like ‘Yeah you, why not? Get up here and lemme grant your wish’, you know?”

He pauses to check for understanding and feedback, no doubt unsatisfied with the blank stares from Keith and Pidge, but willing to continue at the sight of Lance’s complete attention.

“Right, right. So how do you get picked?”

“Great question, Lance! Answer  _ is _ ...you gotta get her attention with your insane dancing skills. Which is completely weird but like kinda awesome at the same time, don’t you think?” He laughs, Keith now not sure if he’s still talking to them or has slipped into a some sort of empowered soliloquy. “I mean, the fate of the planet is at stake and the only way to make sure shit doesn’t hit the fan is some huge crazy alien dance off-”

“It’ll be tricky,” here’s Shiro’s attempt to regain some sort of control of the situation, crossing his arms across the table, “but it can be done. The person going in just has to be confident.”

Keith breathes a sigh of relief, the anxiety that had tangled itself into knots at the very concept of the words  _ dance  _ and  _ rave  _ dissipating. It’s clear who they’re going to pick to go in. It’s not even a contest. Which is why he doesn’t even need to stress when Shiro says it.

“You’ll have to go in tomorrow. There’s not enough time tonight. Alright, Keith?”

Alright. Cool cool. He totally skated by this thing by the skin of his-

Wait. 

Wait  _ WHAT? _

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he doesn’t know if he or Lance is louder, both of them going off at the same time. “Why me?”

“Yeah, why him?”

“Why not Lance?”

“Yeah! Why not me!”

Shiro’s showing no signs of aggravation in an impressive display of restraint, simply continuing with an even tone. “You’re responsible for this whole thing in the first place, Keith.”

“Okay but this is totally Lance’s thing.”

“It’s  _ totally  _ my thing!”

“Lance  _ loves  _ dancing.”

“ _Hell_ yeah I love dancing!”

“Enough,” Shiro’s getting testy now - more tiredly frustrated than angry. “Keith, you’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as you’re probably imagining.”

Keith’s got another protest ready to fire away but Lance beats him to it.

“Shiro, I was  _ made  _ for this mission! How do you not see that this is totally calling to me?”

“I get it, Lance. Alright? Trust me when I say we all know you like to make a big production out of things. But it needs to be Keith. The priestess might not grant the annulment if he doesn’t show up in person. And that’s not a risk we should be willing to take. Got it?”

That shuts Lance up. Barely. He pouts though, arms crossed.

And Keith just wants to disappear into the floor. “Shiro…”

“It’ll be fine.  _ You’ll  _ be fine. I’ll go in with you in case things get out of hand. And…” Shiro takes an unsteady sigh, “Lance...you can come with and be on comms to give advice, alright?”

It’s  _ something.  _ If Keith wasn’t so caught up in feeling like he’s going to hurl, he’d see the little way Lance turns his head in minuscule approval. But it must satisfy Shiro enough, because he collapses the holoscreen and takes it with him as he heads out the door.

“Let me know if you have any questions. We’ll head out tomorrow night.”

And Keith just sort of wants to eject himself into space.

This is a whole different brand of Oh No™.

 

_-_-_

 

He’s fucked. Thoroughly.  _ Royally.  _

Keith doesn’t have an ounce of rhythm in his body and yet he’s supposed to go dance so well that he stands out in an entire crowd of people trying to do the same thing? This is literally Lance’s dream mission and yet he’s stuck with it. He doesn’t even care that it’s his own damn fault that this is happening in the first place. He’s just-... He’s so-...

He’s royally. fucked.

Which is why he finds himself, yet again, standing outside Lance’s bedroom door. But this time, it’s a completely different kind of dread that’s knotting up his stomach, the feeling deepening when Lance answers and asks what’s up. Because…

“I...you like to dance…”

Lance’s eyes narrow, darting around before landing back on him. “Yeah, I think we established that at the debriefing.”

Swing and a miss. Okay. Keith tries another angle. “I...I  _ don’t... _ like dancing…”

“Sure, sure. Definitely don’t seem like the type.”

“Right. So…”

The silence lingers...awkward...Keith really doesn’t wanna say it. But it’s looking like he’ll have to, Lance’s eyes remaining narrowed until there’s the slightest bit of recognition, understanding, and then his lips slowly curl into something smug.

He knows. And he’s still going to make him say it.

Keith sighs. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I can’t just  _ come in?” _

“You don’t have a reason?”

The frustration is setting in, Keith’s fingers beginning to tap against the sides of his thighs as he tries to calm himself. He’s gonna have to say it. “Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“I…” God… “think you could help me learn before tomorrow night.”

Lance smirks, arms crossed. “I could.”

“ _ Will _ you?”

“Will I what?”

And oh, the urge to punch a hand through the rest of this door is beneath him but so real. But he’s got this. He can exhibit control. So he simply steels himself, eyes fixed somewhere near Lance’s collarbone instead of his eyes as he grits it out. “Can you please teach me...how to dance...”

It’s  _ barely  _ a question. More of a growl. But it’s what Lance wants because then he drops the act, “Sure I can!” and opens the door with a flourishing welcome. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Keith pushes forward even though he knows he’s flushed with awkward embarrassment and it’s guaranteed that this is only the beginning of it, because this is not about him. This is about the mission. Which, okay technically is about him. But. Alright. Wait, hang on.  _ How  _ again is this making him feel better?

“Okay, first huge rule is ‘get out of your head’.” 

Keith tunes back in as Lance reaches the control panel on the wall, annoyed that he can be read so easily right now. “I am.”

“Nah, you’re stressing,” Lance corrects, “which is gonna gunk up your whole flow and won’t do anybody any good. So chill.” He hits a few buttons and scrolls through a number of screens and then suddenly the room is being flooded with sound. Melody. ...music?

“Where’d you ge-”

“Alrighty, limber up.” He’s cut off before he can ask, Lance dropping into a series of stretches that seem vastly disproportionate to what they’ll be accomplishing tonight. Keith’s doubt must be visible because Lance gestures at him impatiently. “Let’s go princess, limber up-”

“I don’t need t-”

“Limber up!” Lance shouts, his leg stretched outrageously high in the air to the jaunty beat playing over the speakers. And this truly must be a ridiculous sight to see from a third party’s standpoint. Hell, it’s a ridiculous sight to see from  _ Keith’s  _ standpoint.

He huffs, but begrudgingly brings his arm across his chest in a half-assed stretch. Is this all really necessary? And where the hell did Lance manage to find actual music? Keith has a great many questions, none of which seem like they'll be getting answered very soon with the way Lance finishes up his leg stretch and then launches into the next step.

“So the basic gist of this is you gotta find the beat, okay?” He’s already started swaying a bit, whether it’s on purpose or just on autopilot is unclear. But it’s happening. And he already looks ten times better than Keith feels like he’ll manage. “A lot of people try to put a move to every single thing goin’ on and it just ends up rushed and sloppy. So we gotta start off picking just one beat.”

Keith can already feel the dread returning - thick and unmistakable. He really doesn’t want to do this. But he doesn’t have a choice anymore, especially with the way Lance notes his refusal to move and takes it upon himself to get things started. It’s first and foremost a shock when he reaches across, Keith tensing even more as Lance’s hands grip at his hips. 

“You gotta actually _ move _ , Keith,” he says, but with a lilt of amusement as he gently manhandles him into an even sway. “Start with your hips.”

There’s zero percent chance that Keith’s face isn’t rivaling Red right now. He can feel it burning with every sway of his waist back and forth. It’s forced but almost good, Lance moving him so that he hits the peak of each side on every slow hit of the heaviest beat. 

It’d almost be sensual if Keith didn’t feel so fucking awkward. “I hate this.”

Lance chuckles. “We just started. You’ll get better.”

“I won’t.”

But they keep going, Lance’s hands guiding and eyes watching as the song continues on and on. Pretty soon Keith wonders if this is all they’re going to do - just stand here and sway their hips for a couple hours. Surely that can’t be all there is to dancing. But. Actually, he’s not doing too terrible of a job. He’ll give himself that. And he’s almost convinced until Lance nods and says, “Nice! Now try by yourself,” and then steps away.

Because it means Keith’s all by himself, stock still now that he’s without the security blanket of Lance’s hands. And the beat is still going and technically he kind of knows what to do but Lance is  _ staring.  _ Watching. And...and jesus Keith hates how embarrassing this is.

So he just doesn’t move - just fucking plants himself where he is, blush reaching the tips of his ears. 

And Lance is getting that concerned eyebrow lift going, which doesn’t do anything but make things worse. 

“You're so tense.”

“Yeah no  _ shit.”  _ Keith snaps it even though he knows he should be playing nice. Technically Lance doesn't  _ have  _ to do this - doesn't have to help him even a little. God, just be fucking nice. “I'm trying. This just isn't my thing.”

“Hey, I get it - it's fine. I kinda figured you would be going for the other approach anyway.”

“What other approach?”

Lance cracks his neck with a roll as he takes a step forward, “Gonna be a dick if I go behind you?”

It’s a strange question but Keith hesitantly answers it regardless, gearing up for the shenanigans he knows will come. “...no?”

And come they do, but not in the form he expects - no wet willies or surprise tickling or anything like that. No, instead, Lance simply presses up against him from behind, fitting their bodies together and his hands coming to rest confidently where Keith’s hips still refuse to move. It catches him more off guard than any surprise attack Lance could’ve been plotting, his entire body completely still. 

“Couldn’t really see you as one of those guys who would go for the flashy single approach - no offense,” Lance explains, of course no worse for wear as he grabs a bit tighter at Keith’s hips and then begins to rock them - “So…” - slow and swaying like before - “gotta be the other way around, right?”

It’s a question. Another strange question. And Keith is even less sure how to answer it this time, his face heating up from the less than discreet intimacy of Lance’s hands directing him from behind. “I...I don’t get it.”

But his constant need for explanation is yet again met with nothing but patience. “Priestess doesn’t necessarily have to look at  _ you _ to know if you’re a good dancer or not. All she has to do is look at the face of the person you’re dancing  _ with.”  _

The song pumping through the overhead speakers fades out, leaving a few seconds for Keith to steady himself before the next one picks them right back up - not nearly enough time for him to grab onto Lance’s keen understanding of social interaction.

“Wait,” he shakes his head, hips still following and moving in time with Lance’s. “So I’m trying to impress someone else now?”

“Think of it like this…” This song is slower. Heavier. “The person you’re dancing with, it’s gonna show on their face if they like what you’re doing. Right?”

“Okay.”

“And if they’re clearly impressed, the high priestess is gonna wanna know who’s impressing them that much. Right?”

Keith frowns. “But won’t that obviously be me? I mean, who else would it be.”

“Exactly!” Lance smiles, Keith can hear it in his voice. “So that’s all you gotta do. Just find someone to dance with and you’ll be meeting with her in no time.”

It’s a straightforward plan. So why is Keith so... _ skeptical…  _ “You really think it’ll be that easy?”

“Hell yeah!” Lance is confident, almost enough for both of them. “Not like this though.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Lance’s already moving behind him, the hands that rest on his hips now tugging back and pulling him flush against his lap. Their swaying back and forth is the same, but the fact that there’s no longer space between them means their friction is heavy. Unavoidable. Very much  _ there. _

It’s a dramatic change. One that has Keith silently panicking for a moment from the sheer closeness of everything, that and the realization that he can’t fake it anymore because there’s no room to hide - no room between where Lance is pulling and grinding Keith’s ass back into his lap.

“ _ Oh _ yeah…” Lance’s affirmation escapes on the tails of a breathy grin. “That’s definitely better.”

Keith lassos his heart from his throat and reels it back down into his chest, his entire body flushed with a heat that isn’t alien, just very very  _ very  _ embarrassed. 

“You good?” The nod that Lance gets in response must be convincing enough for him to move on, because then he says: “Alright cool. So this is the base for everything, ‘kay? Gotta always have that friction ‘cuz it’s gonna keep your partner interested.”

Keith finds himself nodding again, trying to stay focused through the rush of the music and the solidness of Lance behind him - his hands on his waist - pretty much just everything Lance is doing with zero effort right now. 

Focus. 

Focus.

He needs to get his shit together.

“Let me do it,” he nearly snaps, possibly surprising himself more than Lance as he pushes the commandeering hands away so he can move without help - without direction - without the fail-safe of Lance’s natural good rhythm to guide him. It’s equal only to digging his own grave but he’s impatient.  _ Impulsive.  _ And he pushes through it with gritted teeth and a heavy dose of false confidence and-

And…

He’s  _ doing  _ it.

Lance speaks first. “Whoa…”  It’s pleasant surprise that laces his tone, his head peeking over Keith’s shoulder to watch the movement at work. Their fingers are laced, hands held up and waiting patiently at their sides. Keith doesn’t know when that happened. But. “Wow, not bad at all...”

Keith is equal parts proud and wanting to eject himself through the airlock, trying to acknowledge the fact that he’s moving his hips on his own - a strong execution - a little sloppy but not any less successful. 

If that doesn’t convince him, the barely there hitch in Lance’s breath when Keith presses back tighter certainly does the trick. Because... 

Lance is-...

Keith’s  _ getting  _ to him.

“What’s next?” he asks, eyes trained on the floor even as a shallow wave of confidence begins to wash over him.

Lance brings their left hands back down to rest on Keith’s hip again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of Keith’s shirt. “Let’s just uh…” he’s started to move against him in an opposite sway, the friction blossoming into something much more profound. “You’ll pick it up as we go, yeah?”

It kind of seems like a cop-out, but Keith guesses he can’t really argue. Especially as the song fades into a different beat - much slower - much more time for Lance’s body to move like water against him from behind. 

And Keith might have a tiny bit more confidence now, but he’s still far far  _ far  _ out of his element -  _ Lance’s  _ element. It’s clear that he’s made for this, even more-so now that Keith feels just  _ how  _ skilled of a dancer he is. His movements are precise but effortless. Engaging. Enticing, actually, Keith pressing back into his chest until he’s almost lying against him - fit soundly even as the grind below smooths on. 

“Hands,” Lance breathes out, bringing his and Keith’s up to the side his own neck, Keith now reaching behind and fingers brushing against the heated skin there, then following as Lance slowly drags them down in a smooth caress. “Even though you’re in front you can still do a lot.”

Keith nods. Steels himself. Swallows as their hands rejoin at his waist again. “What else.”

He can feel Lance grinning against his ear, “There’s always this,” and then he’s guiding him downward, staying straight and hips still moving while Keith sways tightly against his body as he bends his knees on the way down.

Keith’s pulse is quick - unsure -  _ intrigued  _ as Lance’s hands run up his back and then gently press him forward, Keith’s body bending at the middle and ass staying perfectly snug as he follows Lance’s cue and then drags himself back up into his lap - a sinfully heavy grind that has Lance biting his bottom lip as Keith rubs against him.

Keith’s frowning when he comes back, face red. Jesus, that was straight up erotic. “I’m not doing that to someone,” he huffs, although he enjoys the swirl of telltale heat in his stomach, because he knows he must’ve done it well enough to set Lance off.

“You did it to  _ me,”  _ is the argument Lance makes, as if it holds any merit.

Because: “Yeah, but you’re  _ you.  _ And you were the one doing it anyway.”

Lance chuckles, slowly sliding his hands up and down Keith’s sides. “Okay, so...whoever you’re dancing with...pretend they’re me.”

Keith’s eyes flutter shut, his stomach swirling with heat. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What’d you mean then?”

Hesitation. Heat and hesitation. What  _ did  _ he mean? That he’s just barely comfortable doing this with Lance because it’s Lance? That he’s trying not to think about having to do this with someone else? 

Keith rolls his neck, lets the back of his head settle on Lance’s shoulder. “How the hell do you have music anyway?”

It’s a distraction. One that Lance takes whether he realizes it or not, too busy letting his hands continue to snake up and down Keith’s sides. “S’my playlist.”

“But how?” Because there’s no way this music is from Earth.

Lance presses the side of his mouth to Keith’s temple - close enough now that his head is resting back. “I try to find at least one song from every planet we go to. Usually from a marketplace. Pidge helps me convert it into something I can keep.”

Keith makes a tiny noise from the back of his throat to confirm that he’s listening, then another, more earnest, at the feeling of Lance’s hand dipping under his shirt to brush over the skin beneath it.

“S’that really necessary?” he huffs, but it’s not annoyed.

And Lance smirks against him. “Mm-mm. Want me to stop?”

But Keith can’t deny the heat. Growing. Needy. “Mm-mm.”

So Lance doesn’t. He doesn’t stop. He lets one hand explore under Keith’s shirt, fingertips tracing over muscles, and the other remains confidently on his waist - even as Keith lets his head drop forward again, his rhythm waning off with every press of Lance’s hips against him - the tightness of their bodies leaving nowhere for the firmness in Lance’s pants to hide. It’s encouraging, actually, because Keith’s been hard for a good five minutes now.

And really...how could this  _ not  _ have ended up like this? How could you envision this happening without seeing this outcome at the end - Keith’s heart pounding against his rib cage, heat swirling-pooling-begging - Lance, breath growing more and more labored as he grinds up against him from behind, neither of them following the beat anymore, so much as following their own - completely synced and rolling on all cylinders. It’s inevitable. It’s guaranteed. So Keith doesn’t feel the least bit forward when he drags Lance’s hand from his waist, pulling it downward against him until it’s coming to rest palm-down on top of the bulge in his sweatpants.

He breathes a sigh of relief, hips rolling back for a whole different reason now as Lance catches on and palms him through his pants, then slips entirely beneath the waistband to reach skin on skin.  Keith’s head tips forward - warmth rushing. And now, all the sudden, he realizes that it’s been two whole days since they last did this - since the last rolling heatwave. The thought of pent up release has him twitching where Lance now takes him in his hand and starts to flick his wrist.

Keith swears, dirty but past caring, and he’s almost ready to move things forward when Lance takes it upon himself, drawing his hands away to push him gently toward his bed across the room.

Keith’s knees land first, head down, and it’s perfect because Lance takes the opportunity to strip him of his sweatpants and kneel on the floor all in one fluid motion, everything happening so quickly that Keith doesn’t realize his legs are being nudged apart until he feels it - slick and warm and teasing against his entrance. Lance’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Keith bites, the embarrassment rolling around once again because he- they’ve never- this isn’t something they’ve  _ done  _ before but here he is, on all fours and ass sticking up in the air and Lance licking from his balls all the way up to his hole like- like it’s  _ normal.  _ Like this is just a normal fucking thing that they- “ _ Nngh… _ ” His eyes squeeze shut. It’s weird. It’s weird it’s weird but  _ fuck  _ does it feel good. Who the hell is Keith trying to fool?

Lance breathes out against him, hands spreading his cheeks as he bobs his head with every lick - every circle of his tongue. The next breath is incredibly hot as he pulls back and a finger takes his place - circling circling circling and then slipping inside, tense muscle growing tenser, Keith’s toes curling when Lance dives back in to lick around his finger and then join it inside.

It’s intense. It’s fucking outrageous. Keith has never scrambled for a pillow and bitten down so hard in his entire life. Because his fists are balled and his thighs are shaking and there’s slick and spit dripping down the insides of his legs and- 

“Gonna fuck you, that okay?” Lance mumbles it against him and Keith wants to scream because  _ why?   _ Why why why does he  _ always ask  _ why doesn’t he just fucking- “Keith?”

“Do it,” he snarls into the pillow, face far too red to risk being seen. 

But pretty soon it doesn’t matter, because pretty soon the heat is pulling back and Lance is spitting into his hand and rubbing and then he’s there - he’s lining up, the head of his cock just barely slipping through before Keith loses it and just fucking  _ slams  _ himself back, not even caring about the noise he makes or the noise Lance makes because it’s finally happening - he’s impatient and impulsive but it’s finally happening. Lance is completely buried and must be in shock or something so Keith just fucking does it for him, just arches his back and fucks himself on Lance’s cock until he gets with the program. And he’s impatient. And he’s impulsive. But it works in his favor because Lance is grabbing his hips and carrying forward - somehow perfectly in time with the new music still playing over the speakers.

It’s completely ridiculous and Keith eats that shit  _ up.  _ Wants  _ more  _ of it. Doesn’t even care that they’re both going to come within seconds and that Lance manhandles him into flipping over for the last few moments because it’s good. It’s  _ damn  _ good. And the look on Lance’s face - eyebrows drawn together and lifted upward, lips slick and parted and giving way to sinfully heavy noises - Keith eats that shit up too - completely loses it and comes at the very sight of it, sticky white dripping across his stomach and his chest and his eyes peeking open just as Lance comes too, his hips stuttering and then pressing tight against Keith’s thighs and - and Keith can feel it - can feel the very real warmth of him spilling over inside of him. His dick twitches at the thought - at the sight - and then Lance pulls out so he can collapse on the bed next to him with a heavy breath.

But it’s not quiet. Keith’s ears are still ringing, muffled slightly by their heaving lungs, by the pound of his pulse - maybe even Lance’s pulse too. And…

Keith looks up and over at him, still panting. “You came in me.”

And Lance just lets his eyes fall shut, something like sympathy easing into his voice, “Sorry…” until Keith reaches up across his chest with his clean hand and pulls Lance down by the side of his neck, slotting his lips over his and letting his tongue coax Lance’s into a lazy dance - slow and simple and unrushed.

Lance’s lips are still pursed when Keith leans back down, eyes still shut as well until a beat of silence has passed and they flutter open.

It’s...endearing.

Keith swallows down a telling smile.  “Gonna clean me up or what?”

Because they've still got work to do.

 

* * *

 


	6. Wave Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grab a drink, friends. it's another big one.

The sun has set, the stars have aligned, and Lance has lectured Keith in all the ways he can.

The time has come.

Keith readjusts the fitted fabric of the outfit Pidge and Hunk set out to find for him, because, according to Pidge, “You have exactly zero pieces of clothing that are appropriate for tonight.” And okay, they’re right, but listen... _ this  _ outfit -  _ this  _ outfit is not the one. 

_ This  _ outfit is barely even an outfit, the flowy material of his shirt not making up for the fact that it stops being a shirt after hitting right under his sternum, leaving the rest of his stomach exposed until the waistband of the black shorts. And everywhere that the shirt is loose, the shorts are not. And they’re  _ short  _ \- which he guess he could deal with if it wasn’t for the way the bare skin of his thighs lead to the delicate bands of the dark stockings clinging tightly to his legs. It’s all just...so much.

If you would’ve told Keith that he would be standing here, looking like an extra in a Lana del Rey music video (not that he has extensive knowledge on those or anything), you would’ve risked getting the shit knocked out of you. And yet here he is, very much here and very much looking like an extra in a Lana del Rey music video. And there’s not fucking much he can do about it.

“Keith.” Several knocks hit off the metal of the bathroom door as Shiro tries to get things going. “Moving out in two. Everything good?”

Keith grumbles, arms raised awkwardly at his side as he grimaces at his reflection. “Define 'good'.” 

“Are you on fire?”

“...no?”

“Then you’re good. Let’s go.”

Shiro’s not putting up with his shit tonight. That much is clear.  It leaves Keith groaning internally but he turns from the mirror anyway, staring the closed door in the face as he mentally prepares himself.

Okay. It’s all good. Just go out there with everyone. It’s alllll good.

He breathes out a steadying breath and then:

Okay. It’s go-time.

The door slides open for the reveal and Keith is already moving, gaze venomous but unable to hide the blush high on his cheeks as the cold air hits his exposed skin.

“Shut up,” he counters, a hand in Shiro’s face as he passes because he can already see the amused smile pulling at the corners of his friend’s lips.

“Didn’t say anything,” is Shiro’s response, although it’s on the tail of a chuckle so it doesn’t do that great of a job at reassuring.

But it doesn’t matter. Keith is planting himself on the floor, taking a deep breath and then lifting his arms to tie his hair back into a small ponytail, the rubberband caught between his teeth as he gathers it back.

“See? Toldya Hunk and I know what we’re doing,” Pidge says somewhere to his left, and if Keith was paying attention, he’d notice the way Lance steps around them to see for himself, his casual stare slowly widening into something hard to define as he sees Keith.

Or...at least, it would be hard to define if it wasn’t for the very very  _ slight  _ tingle of warmth that uncurls in both of their stomachs like clockwork.

Keith’s eyes snap up, widened as well but for a whole different reason as they lock onto where Lance realizes he’s gotten caught staring. Because no no no, this is not the time for a heatwave. Not the fucking time at all. And Lance must get that even without Keith’s subtle  _ stop stop stop  _ glare because he clears his throat, motions to the pod doors behind him with two thumbs and a: “M’gonna wait in the cruizer thingy,” and then disappears.

Nobody thinks anything of it except for Keith. And Pidge actually, now that they shake their head just a bit and mumble, “Wow…” in hushed amusement of Lance’s quick escape. Keith doesn’t want to think about that knowing grin that's starting either. That’s for another time.

“We should head out too,” Shiro decides while fitting the comms earpiece in his ear. “Pidge, I don’t know how long we’ll be, but we should be back relatively soon.”

“I’ll be here,” Pidge drones, taking it upon themself to wander towards the hallway. “Waiting on bated breath, of course.”

 

_-_-_

 

The entire ride to the entrance of the Underground is uncharacteristically quiet, the grassy Ahtian landscape giving way to concrete and smoke and crumbling buildings before their very eyes. It gives Keith plenty of time to get his nerves worked up while simultaneously envying the casual black pants/tank/jacket that Shiro and Lance get to wear. It bothers him all the way up to the point when they step out of the pod - or more accurately, Lance and Shiro step out of the pod and Keith remains firmly inside because: “I’m not going outside like this” and “there’s people around” and “it’s cold and I’ve got the equivalent of a hand towel covering me”. 

He’s about 97% positive his whining is falling on deaf ears until something black is thrust in his face, thoroughly shutting him up.

He blinks. It’s Lance’s jacket.

Oh.

Keith glances up to where Lance is holding it out for him by the collar, his tank top ruffled slightly against his skin from when he had taken it off. It’s when the breeze picks up, Lance almost silhouetted by the overhead lights glowing above them in the night, but he’s waiting, eyes not straying from Keith’s face until he takes the jacket, “Thanks…” and then slides it over his shoulders.

It’s unexpected. Nice...kind of, the material thick and sturdy. Leather, but not. And it shuts Keith up and gets him out of the cruizer, gravel crunching beneath black sneakers, so… So yeah. Maybe things are alright.

 

_-_-_

 

Forget that. Forget everything Keith just said. Things are not alright. Things are very dark and very loud and they are  _ not alright. _

“Holy crap…” Lance doesn’t look nearly as overwhelmed, though, also taking in the large abandoned theater with a kind of open-mouthed awe where Keith only feels anxiety.

The only lights are the colored ones, most staying still to cast an ambiance but a few of them moving to the music blaring over the speakers that are hanging from makeshift scaffolding above - music, Keith realizes, that’s not so much loud as it is  _ deep,  _ the bass jacked up so high that it vibrates high and low and everywhere in his chest with every pound. And the people… There’s a lot of people.

“Okay, the spot I planned on taking is too crowded,” Shiro says somewhere far away even though he’s standing right next to them. “Gimme three to spot a new one and then I’ll be back.”

Lance nods - Keith thinks he does at least - and as Shiro disappears off in the general direction of his original spot, he turns to where Keith is standing stock still.

“Hey,” he tries, pulling the comms from his ear and reaching out to do the same with Keith’s. “Dude. You gotta get it together.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Keith hears his mouth say before his brain okays it. He shifts, arms crossed tightly over his chest and Lance’s jacket wrinkling but warm compared to the stockings clinging to his legs. 

It’s an accidental confession that’s got Lance frowning. “What? Can’t just write yourself off without even starting.” 

But Keith can’t really hear him - can’t fucking focus with how loud everything is and the very real feeling of everything beginning to press in around him. Fuck this. This is some next level shit.

“Hey.” Lance is closer now, expression serious even as lines of colors wash over it in a frenzy. “We didn’t practice all night for nothin’, right? You’ll be fine. And Shiro’s gonna be over there somewhere. And I'll be...up there somewhere… And...”

Keith doesn’t realize he’s stopped talking until it’s probably been a considerable amount of time. But when he looks back up at him, there’s something different in his expression - still serious, very very serious, but something else now too...something more honest. 

He takes a step closer to Keith, voice dropping almost too quiet, and then: “Can I-”

“Okay. Turns out new spot’s better.” Shiro’s presence has Lance quickly stepping back, attention now above and past Keith’s head as their mission’s leader reappears behind him. “Oh, guess that explains why you weren’t answering me,” he says then, almost annoyed as he gestures to the earpieces still in Lance’s hand. “Nice, guys.”

“Sorry.” Lance answers first, posture returning to normal as he speaks over the change in music. “There was weird feedback.”

There was no weird feedback. He just didn’t want Shiro hearing his little peptalk. Keith gets that now. 

“Where’ll you be?” Keith asks, forcing himself even though he’d rather not take part in pushing this along. Maybe that peptalk  _ did  _ work a little after all.

“That corner,” Shiro answers with a point, the other two following his finger until seeing the small outcropping of space nearby. “Sound good?”

“‘Kay.”

“And Lance?”

“I’ll be topside,” Lance adds on with his own head nod toward the railing above the dance floor. “Well...as topside as you can be without being on the roof.”

Shiro turns with a nod, and then makes sure to hold direct eye contact with Keith with his last comment. “We’re right here. Anything goes wrong, either I come in or you come out and we regroup. Got it?”

Keith takes a deep breath. Lets it out through his nose. “Got it.”

“Okay. Let’s get in position.”

The bass continues on as Keith nods and then shrugs out of Lance’s jacket, handing it over and fighting down the incredible wave of uncomfortable vulnerability as the room’s damp heat hits against the bare skin of his shoulders and waist.

It's fine. 

He’s got this.

Shiro presents a fist in the middle of their circle - the team ritual that everyone’s gotten used to before dispersing. “Remember Keith, say the word and we call it.”

Keith pops the comms back into his ear and then knocks his fist against Shiro’s and Lance’s, breaking the circle and heading towards the edge of the crowd. He only looks back once, and it’s Lance’s confident nod that zaps through the air between them and seizes inside his chest as he turns to face the crowd again.

Okay.

Game face. 

Game face. 

Game fucking face.

The beat drops down hard and heavy as Keith stalks forward, faking the confidence that’s definitely not there. Especially with the very high stakes tonight’s riding on, not made any easier by the fact that more and more pairs of curious eyes are fixing on him as he passes. One by one. Then two by two. It’s...unsettling...to say the least.

“Okay…” Keith says carefully, low enough not to draw any more attention to himself. “Are they staring because I look stupid, or because they know who I am?”

Lance’s voice comes through the earpiece first:  _ “You don’t look stupid.” _

Then Shiro:  _ “Not really sure if they know you or not either, though.” _

Keith can’t help the eyeroll. Wow. “Best backup ever. Thanks guys.”

_ “You want people to be checking you out, man,”  _ Lance reassures.

_ “He’s right. The more attention the better. Try not to let it get to you.” _

Right. Super easy. Keith’ll just do that real quick - just fucking ignore all these Ahtians staring at him. No problem at all-

“You’re late.” The voice calling out behind him has Keith suddenly freezing, confusion unfolding inside him as he stops - then slowly turns as it speaks up again - “Don’t know a thing about proper etiquette, do you?” 

Relaxed posture - the single gold necklace now gone, not like before when…

“...Kreah?”

Her smirk drops into something pitying. “What, don’t tell me you’re surprised to see me here.”

But Keith is just standing there, mouth open and ready to answer but brain refusing to push anything out because… She’s here. In the Underground. The base for the rebels. 

Wait.

_ “Who’s this? Lance, who  _ is  _ this?” _

_ “Was gonna ask you the same thing…” _

“Showed up at the most crowded time. Realize that, yeah?”

Keith forces himself to talk, his thoughts now beginning to swirl even more than before. “Yeah I uh...I caught that.” Kreah’s a rebel. Kreah’s a  _ rebel.  _ How the fuck did he not make that connection before now?

“Oh well. What matters is you’re here now. Nice clothes, by the way. See you got ‘em on the right way this time. Well done on that.”

_ “Keith, should I be intercepting?” _

“It's fine,” Keith answers Shiro and then brings his attention back to Kreah, guarded even without the added suspicion of his teammates.  “How'd you know I’d be here?”

“Really? And here I thought you were a smart one.” She's chuckling again with the shake of her head, and Keith is pretty sure she’s going to leave it at that single insult until he notices her dig in the pocket of her pants to pull out a thin strip of something he can't see - “Here.” - before she rips a sectioned piece off and holds it out for him. “Take this.”

“What is it?” Keith asks it right as Shiro’s voice echoes the same words in the earpiece, only Shiro’s considerably more concerned.

“Mellower,” she explains over the music, ripping off a piece of her own and then letting it evaporate on her tongue. “Calms the nerves. You need it bad, yeah?”

_ “Ohhh man uh-uh.”  _ Lance is interjecting before Keith can process.  _ “Nope nope nope nope.” _

_ “Yeah, I'm gonna have to say no to the whole ‘mystery alien drug’ thing too.” _

But Keith’s already taking it from her, squinting in the dark at the paper-like material balancing on the tip of his pointer finger because yes? Something to take this stupid fucking edge off? Yes please?

_ “Whoa whoa whoa are you serious? Are you freakin’ serious right now-” _

_ “-Keith, absolutely not-” _

_ “-dude don’t- DUDE!” _

Lance’s cry is cut short, completely ignored because it's too late. Way too late. The nerves have tangled and wrapped and messed with Keith and he’s impatient - impulsive - and the paper doesn't have a taste but it tingles on his tongue as it melts and dissolves into nothing.

_ “Ahh damn it Keith,”  _ Shiro huffs to himself from his spot in the corner, frustrated but not exactly surprised. 

He’s probably got a hand rubbing over his eyes like he usually does when Keith makes these decisions but Keith doesn't see him at all. Doesn’t see Lance either. All he’s focusing on is the slightly bitter aftertaste and the very obvious way that his nerves are stubbornly staying strung at level ten, refusing to settle even with the addition of the mellower in his system.

Fucking great.

“Let’s go.” Kreah’s eyeing the crowd when Keith snaps back in. When she notes his hesitancy with a raised eyebrow she nods toward the dance floor. “S’bout time, right?”

Right. Right, yeah it’s totally time. Keith swallows roughly. Totally. “Yeah.”

_ “Keith, come in.”  _ There’s a sternness in Shiro’s tone that’s unmistakable. _ “Are you or are you not receiving our feed?” _

“I’m here.”

_ “Oh good, it does work.”  _ It’s Lance now. _ “See we were just wondering what the HELL YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING. ARE YOU AN IDIOT?” _

The sudden pierce of Lance’s voice in his ear leaves him wincing. And Shiro doesn’t even give Keith a chance to answer before tagging on.

_ “I'm calling it. We don't know the side effects of what you just decided to take-” _

“I'm fine. Nothing’s happening.”

_ “Yeah,  _ yet _ ,”  _ Lance’s voice drops to a mumble.

But Keith knows what he’s doing. Kind of. “We keep going.”

_ “Keith-” _

“We keep  _ going.” _

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment, Keith continuing to stalk forward through the crowd with Kreah as it does. Because he’s finally here. It’s finally happening. And he’s going to get this shit over with as fast as he can, which means no. They’re not calling it. He’s fine and everything’s just fucking  _ fine.  _

“Right, then.” They stop still relatively shallow in the sea of bodies, Kreah grabbing another Ahtian by the arm to separate him from everyone else. “Jamey, take care of him, yeah?”

Keith familiarizes himself with the new face that looks down at him as Shiro’s voice comes in, far off somehow.

_ “I’m losing visual. Lance, do you have eyes on him?” _

_ “Got ‘im.” _

_ “What’s going on?” _

_ “Not really...sure? There’s a new guy.” _

It’s all white noise in the back of Keith’s head, the music swelling in his chest as Kreah says something he can’t hear and then disappears into the crowd, leaving Keith to continue to stare up at this new person - this Jamey guy.

_ “Girl left. Is that bad? Keith, dude, is that bad? We good?” _

“Yeah,” Keith answers, even if the little confused ball of nerves in his stomach convinces him otherwise. 

_ “Yeah we’re good? Or yeah it’s bad?” _

“It’s fine.”

_ “‘Kay. Jesus...some specifics every once in a while....”  _ That last bit is said under Lance’s breath, Keith can tell, but he doesn’t have any time to respond because the sudden hands on him throw his entire body into the defensive.

He’s spinning and stopping and it’s only when he realizes that he’s been turned around to dance facing the balcony that he lets his breath out, forcing his muscles to relax. 

Okay. Be calm. This is why they’re here. He’s practiced with Lance and the music is kind of somewhat similar andOH-oh okay there’re those hands again. There they are.

_ “You good, Keith?”  _ Shiro asks suddenly, which makes Keith think he must’ve inhaled loudly enough for the other two to hear, but-

“Yep,” there’s a struggle in his voice but there’s nothing he can do about that now. “Yeah I’m-...uh huh.”

_ “Okay. Let us know.” _

_ “Huh.”  _ Lance now. _ “Guess that takes care of finding someone to dance with.” _

It sure does. It sure fucking does. Keith almost regrets not having the option to pick his own dance partner until Jamey starts moving behind him and he realizes he’s got a similar build to Rahvi - same broad shoulders - same strong arms. Not that Keith still remembers the way the prince’s body feels that much…

_ “Dude, I’d start dancing sometime this week if I were you.” _

Lance’s smartass comment is as unappreciated as it is appreciated, oddly enough. It’s irritating and it brings a blush to Keith’s cheeks but he knows Lance is right - knows he needs to start this up for real so they can be done with it. So he does. Well, he tries. But it’s shaky as hell.

Fuck.

Breathe.

Be cool.

Keith lets his eyes close.

Fuck fuck fuck.

_ “Find the beat.” _

“What?”

_ “Just find the main beat.”  _

Keith glances up to where Lance said he’d be, eyes searching the darkness for something -  _ anything.  _ But the lights are too bright in front of the shadows.

Find the beat.

Right.

The movement starts in his hips… Slowly and not too surely… It’s reminiscent of how he danced with Lance but things aren’t the same. The atmosphere isn’t the same. The body behind him isn’t the same. 

But-

_ “Yeah, good. Keep going.” _

-he doesn’t stop. He lets his eyes fall back closed and takes a deep breath through his nose and latches onto that main, full beat - the heart of it - that simple, easy bass kick that resonates deepest in his chest.

And…

_ “There ya go. Got it.” _

Keith pushes forward - a glimmer of confidence shining through the oozing embarrassment that won’t leave him - the bundle of nerves wound so tightly that he can feel it in his throat. 

_ “Okay couple things…”  _ Lance’s voice filters in after some hazy amount of time has passed.  _ “One: doin’ good. Keep it up.” _

Keith swallows roughly as he continues to move, eyes scanning up toward the general direction of his teammate. “Two?”

_ “Two: not huge, but Shiro’s comm went kaput-” _

“What?”

_ “We both still have visual but if you wanna call it we’ll call it.” _

Jamey moves steadily on behind him, either not hearing Keith talk to himself or simply not giving a shit. And wow, okay now Keith’s out one of his two backups. 

_ “Keith?” _

“Yeah.”

_ “Up to you, man.” _

Keith sighs. “Yeah.”

_ “Y-...god, yeah  _ what _? Yeah we’re calling it?” _

“No. Yeah we’re still going.”

_ “Okay. Man, is it really so hard to just say that the first time?” _

Keith rolls his eyes, hips swaying back and forth. “Are you really gonna harass me right now?”

_ “All I’m saying is you suck at communicating.” _

“Great, keep harassing me and you won’t have to worry about it because you’ll be kaput too.”

The line goes silent except for some unintelligible mumbling. Wow. Barely took them any time at all to start fighting. At least they waited until Shiro can't hear.

Keith huffs. Damn it. “Sorry.” Now’s not the time.

_ “Sorry. Just...keep dancing. You’re doing fine.” _

“...thanks.”

And then that’s that. For now. 

Another song passes, the crowd growing larger and denser as it does. And then another song - they’ve somehow moved up farther towards the front. And when Keith is finally starting to get comfortable with the beat, it switches. Just like that. Just like it’s no problem at all to completely derail everything he’s built up so far.

He...maybe panics a little bit. 

The quick beat hits in his chest like a second, super scattered heartbeat, Keith falling into a sloppily put-together shuffle on the balls of his feet because fuck-

_ “Whoa whoa whoa, relax.” _

“What the fuck is happening-”

_ “Just take a second, Keith. It isn’t the actual beat. Just let it kick in.” _

Right. 

Right right. 

Right right right.

_ “Okay maybe it  _ is  _ the actual beat.” _

And why is it so unsettling that he can’t see where Lance is lurking up there - just some all-seeing hype man entity lurking in the scaffolding. Keith’s heart sinks a little. “Lance-”

_ “You’re fine. Just let loose a little, dude. Don’t think about it.” _

“Fucking-”

_ “Have fun with it!” _

The pulse hits deeper and deeper but Keith can hear the smile in Lance’s voice - the honest to god encouragement from wherever the fuck he’s lurking up there. And. And okay. Okay. He can do this. 

Just…

Keith steps forward a little bit, far enough away from Jamey that he doesn’t feel him anymore and can move freely. Let loose. Let loose.

Let fucking loose.

Keith’s brows furrow together defensively but he goes for it - just fucking- just takes the moves Lance taught him and steps them up to fit the rhythm. And it feels kind of weird and embarrassing and it’s generally fucking awful but there’s a small ball of energy uncurling high in his chest and-

_ “Oh-ho my god!” _

“Shut up-”

_ “No it’s good! You’re really good!” _

But Keith can’t believe his ears - can’t believe the genuine excitement because really? He’s completely dicking around right now and it’s actually passing of as skill? “Seriously?”

_ “Totally! Oh man, you have no idea how bad I wanna come down there!” _

Keith catches himself smiling at that, and for a split second - for the shortest span of breath - he’s back in Lance’s room. Back in the close walls and close space. Back with Lance.

When Keith blinks, it’s already over. It’s high ceilings with chipping ornamental designs and crumbling stone again. It’s Davey or Jamey or whoever the hell. 

And Lance is still hidden off somewhere across the room.

The swirl of motion hits Keith like a wave - shallow at first, and then all encompassing as it dulls the thoughts in his brain and then washes away like it was never there in the first place. But it was. And Keith’s legs give just the slightest bit before he catches himself.

Lance doesn’t notice. Shiro doesn’t notice. They must not with the way they aren’t bringing any sort of attention to it. 

Keith shakes his head - clears the cobwebs and picks back up, not proud enough to deny that he needs the support of another body if something like that decides to happen again. It’s just in time for the song to transition into something much slower, the cooldown something Keith greatly accepts with open arms.

_ “And just like that, you did it.” _

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t completely fuck it up, I guess.”

_ “Not at all. And hey, I didn’t wanna say it while it was happening...but I’m pretty sure that was a floor clearer.” _

Keith eases himself back, the Ahtian’s support more needed than he realized. “A what?”

_ “They were thinning out the crowd. Like a sudden death sorta thing.” _

One look around him secures Lance’s theory, what was once a claustrophobic amount of people battling for attention now dwindled down to a healthy group that can no doubt be combed over much easier. 

Keith blinks. “Oh.”

_ “Yeah man. And you made it.” _

As if to prove it even further, a pair of serious-looking Ahtians clad in black make their way over to the edge of the crowd, summoning the chosen one from within it and escorting them to the stairs that lead up to the balcony, and no doubt the high priestess.

So that’s how it happens.

_ “Keep it up, princess.” _

Keith zones back into the task at hand, only to realize that he stopped moving at some point in time, another hazy wave of fatigue rolling over him as he forces himself to keep moving - sway his hips to the slower beat - fight down the sudden urge to yawn.

He loses.

_ “Hot.” _

“Shut up,” Keith bites on the end of the yawn, an eye squeezed shut as he covers his mouth with a fist. 

Fuck, how’d he get so tired all the sudden? 

_ “Shiro’s givin’ me that worried-leader look and making hand signals at me.” _

“I’m fine.” He’s fine. Really.

_ “You sure?” _

“Yes.” The next yawn doesn’t do a lot to help his case. 

_ “Alright, then wake the heck up, man. I dunno if you remember why you’re here, but this’s kind of important.” _

“I know, I know,” Keith drones. It must be the music. This particular song is slow and arguably sexual but Davey/Jamey’s not feeling it and Keith can’t bring himself to care enough to try any of the moves Lance taught him the night before. 

So he’ll just kind of sway here, eyes heavy as they track the Ahtians that fulfill the high priestess’s wishes and bring the next person toward the staircase.

Keith next. 

Keith wants to be next. 

He wants to be out of here and back on the ship and back with-

_ “Keith!” _

He snaps back, eyes widening in attempt to steady himself. 

The song changed. It’s much faster. When’d that happen?

_ “Okay something’s wrong.” _

“Nothing’s wrong.”

_ “Something’s definitely wrong.” _

Keith frowns...wants to argue it further...it’s hard with the haze that washes over his brain...muddles over things...stays there this time instead of washing away...

It’s the mellower. 

The downer. 

It’s kicking in and it’s kicking in  _ hard. _

_ “...-there… ...Seriously Keith-...down...” _

The rotating lights above slow into a creeping dance. 

Purple.

Blue.

Red.

Purple again.

Then red.

Keith stares up at them...head tipped...blinking slowly...a point of absolute stillness in a sea of movement.

They’re pretty. The lights. Really.

“Hey!” 

Lance’s voice. But it’s not far away. It’s closer than it should be. 

“Hey! Keith!”

A hand slaps against his cheek from behind. Not hard but stinging. It pulls at Keith’s brain enough to focus. “What?”

“What’s going on?” Lance is behind him in faux-dance position when Keith looks over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn up in something like concern as he stares at him.

Keith blinks. The music’s still going hard. The people around them too. Lance is behind him because...because he’s covering for him. Trying to get him squared away without revealing to whoever’s watching that something’s wrong. Because it is. Something’s wrong. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Keith. Snap out of it, man. We need to go.”

“M’so close though.”

“You’re drugged.”

“I’ll be next n’ then we can go home.”

A growl of frustration enters Keith’s brain, and it’s a moment or two before he realizes it’s Lance, his hands coming down curtly on his waist from behind. “This is so beyond stupid.” He says it under his breath but Keith hears it. He hears it all now.

“Lance-”

“Just-...just focus.”

His arms are much more comfortable to fall back into, but when Keith sinks in, head spinning, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that comes with the realization that it doesn’t feel the same as last night. It’s secure, yeah. But there’s a distinct lack of something that Keith can’t put his finger on. An absence left from the addition of the frown that won’t leave Lance’s face. It pulls at Keith’s chest and stays there like the fog in his brain.

“...Lance…?”

Lights flash and flicker but there’s no response. And it pulls. 

The Ahtians retrieve another hopeful from the crowd. To the stairs. Past the guards at the foot. Up up up until vanishing.

Keith lets out a breath and lets his eyes close. 

Next one for sure.

Lance’s hips press against him from behind, but the fire isn’t there. Or maybe it is. Maybe it has been? Maybe this downer’s making Keith misinterpreting things?

“D’you still like me?”

The movement behind him falters - another split second phenomenon. “W- _what?”_

Keith can’t figure out what Lance’s tone is. But his chest hurts. And the music is starting to give him a headache. And all it takes is another split second phenomenon for his eyes to lock onto the woman walking on her own towards the stairs, passing freely through the guards and climbing right up with absolutely zero hesitance. 

Kreah. 

Keith shakes his head - more cobwebs. 

“...I’m next,” he mumbles to himself. And then, louder as pieces slowly connect, “I’m next.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” Lance is quiet.

But. “Really.”

“How could you even-”

And then they’re moving, Keith pulling them toward the front with a strength and steadiness that he didn’t think he had until right this second.

“Keith, sto-”

“I’m next.” It’s a declaration now, his eyes locked on the Ahtians that make their way from the stairs towards the crowd - towards the bodies - towards Keith.

It happens just like he said it would. And when they gesture at him, a summoning sort of hand wave, Keith pulls away from the people and from Lance and doesn’t even notice how one of Lance’s hands stays firmly on Keith’s hip until the last possible moment. 

He doesn’t have time. He doesn’t have the focus. All he can latch onto are the stairs and the guards and Kreah, smirking down at him from the top of the stairs as he looks up, and things sort of slur together in otherworldly slow motion.

Then she’s closer. He’s up a few steps and she’s down a few steps and she’s talking to him, something in the palm of her hand as she addresses him with almost pity. 

“And I gave you a lower dose, too. Guess humans aren’t cut out for the stuff.”

Keith focuses in on the small pinch of powder settled in a delicate bowl in Kreah’s hand, warning signals flashing this time even without Shiro’s presence.

But “It’ll right you. Need your wits for this, yeah?”

Being expected to differentiate between good alien drugs and bad alien drugs was never discussed at the garrison. Maybe it was covered once Keith...left.

“Trust me,” she says then, like she hasn’t been keeping largely important secrets since the moment they met in the royal garden. 

But Keith is tired. So fucking tired. And he just wants this to be done, so he takes the tiny bowl from her and pinches off one side of his nose, sniffing the powder into the other and blinking quickly from the instant lift.

It’s like a punch to the face. The music is louder now. The lights are brighter and more well-defined. And he can hear Lance’s voice, perfectly clear at the bottom of the steps.

“No, listen. I’m telling you I’m with him.” 

But the bodyguards don’t seem swayed, their posture remaining stiff and threatening as they block the stairs off from him.

“It’s fine,” Kreah says before Keith can go mediate. “You’ve got your hands full, yeah? Do it quick and you’ll be back.”

Keith doesn’t even have a chance before she’s shooing him up the remaining stairs, the darkness of the balcony already intimidating enough without the large chair sitting before him, what he has to assume is the high priestess slumped casually in the shadows against it. 

Waiting.

Keith takes a moment to calm himself and then approaches her, forgoing the much smaller bench a few feet in front of it. 

And yes. There are his nerves again. Right on schedule. 

“Sit,” the priestess says, inspecting the polish of her nails as he makes himself noticed.

“I’m f-”

“ _ Sit. _ ”

He sits. 

“Thank you for seeing me,” he forces out, just like he and Shiro had practiced before coming here. “I am a paladin of Vol-”

“I know who you are.” 

“Oh.” Keith’s mouth snaps shut. Then: “Uh… Okay.” Just stick to the script. “I’m here to ask your-”

“I know why you’re here.” Her tone is powerful yet relaxed. Elegant like her carry,  yet casual like the dark robes that wrap around her body, familiar to Keith from when he had first met-... “Your desires are few, yet burdensome.” 

Keith blinks, then nods slowly. “Um...yeah, I guess you could say that. But how do you-”

It’s then that Kreah emerges from the darkness yet again. Only this time, she saunters over to the large, ornate throne and drapes herself across the arm of it like she’s done it a thousand times, bending down to calmly whisper something into the priestess’s ear from where she’s perched herself.

Oh.

“I will grant you your wish,” the priestess says after a moment of consideration, crossing her legs and fixing Keith with a look that he can feel to his toes. “Although, it is only right for you to know this. In accepting your request, you must also accept the responsibility of our prince’s very real disappointment. Truly never has someone resonated so fully within his heart.”

Keith’s gaze drops, still not completely used to the guilt that rolls around every time Rahvi is mentioned. 

“If you will accept this, then I shall move forward and send word to the other high priestesses.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Then we are done here.” 

She says it with a finality that leaves Keith with only the option to leave, feeling even more out of place as Kreah bends down to whisper something that makes the priestess grin dangerously. 

“Thank you,” he says, feet carrying him quickly to the staircase before he can fuck anything else up.

The climb down is distinctly more relieving than the climb up was, the pressure of the burden he’d brought upon himself now finally lifted. It took some doing, but it’s done. It’s done. It’s fucking done.

“Well?” Shiro’s waiting for him in the corner by the door when he arrives. 

“Taken care of,” Keith sighs, grabbing the jacket he’s holding out for him and throwing it over his shoulders. Speaking of: “Where’s Lance?”

“Outside.”

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here-”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupts, reaching out to grab Keith’s arm before he can make it more than a few steps. “Hang on.”

And Keith knows that look. “What?”

It’s the look Shiro gets when he’s trying to stay objective. And it’s never good.

Oh god. This is about the drugs.

“My feed wasn’t going out,” he says slowly, removing the comms from his ear, “but it was coming in,” and it’s then that the sour twist of dread begins to curl in Keith’s stomach. Because… “...what’s going on with you and Lance?”

It’s not about the drugs. It’s not about the drugs at all. 

It’s about  them. 

He could  _ hear  _ them.

“I normally wouldn’t ask,” Shiro says carefully, and oh god...what did they say? “but the way you’ve been acting lately can’t be a coincidence.”

What the fuck did they say? 

Keith’s brain kicks into overtime, scanning through all the things he can remember saying - everything Lance had said-

“Keith.”

“I-... It’s not a big deal-”

“But it is, though. It’s a big deal because it’s been messing with you for months now.” Shiro’s tone is slipping into something stern, but not in a leader way. 

And fuck. Fuck, what is Keith supposed to tell him? “It’s alright. It’ll be over soon.”

“ _ What  _ will be over soon?”

“We’re-...”  _ fuck. _ Keith can’t shake the intensity of Shiro’s stare - his concern - his need to  _ know.  _ ...and… “...we…” This is it. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run off to or nothing to get distracted by. This is  _ it.  _ Keith takes a deep breath, eyes closing as he finally lets it go… “Something went wrong on a mission,” he starts, shoving his hands into Lance’s jacket pockets. “We inhaled some... _ something…  _ It’s…an aphrodisiac.”

He wants to leave it at that. Wants ten times over for that just to be it. But the gears turning in Shiro’s head as he frowns and waits for him to continue forces him to push on out of discomfort. 

“We’re... _ helping _ ...each other…” but it’s awkward. Fuck, it’s so awkward. It’s worse than he imagined it being, not even able to meet Shiro’s eyes. “Have been for a while now.”

The silence that follows is made even more uncomfortable by the music that continues to rage on a few feet away, lights still flashing and bodies still moving.

Shiro is still, obviously thinking, and then he nods. “Alright. Definitely not what I thought you were gonna say.”

Keith chances a glance up, curious. “What’d you  _ think  _ I was gonna say?”

He huffs a chuckle, eyebrows rising a bit as he shakes his head toward the ground. “I mean...nothing that involved an alien aphrodisiac. That’s for sure.” It’s almost funny. Kind of relieving. Still very awkward. Still… “Okay. See, this is something that would be worth mentioning in the beginning,” he says, then his tone slips into something more accepting. “But I understand why you didn’t.”

Keith is thankful for it - two things heaved off his chest tonight whether he planned on it or not.

“Can we go?”

“Yeah. I’ll be out in a second, just gonna do a final sweep.”

Keith nods, thankful, and then heads toward the door without another thought, leaving the lights and the crowd and the deep thrum of the music behind him. 

 

_-_-_

 

The section of Ahtian that leads to the Underground reminds Keith of a post-apocalyptic movie, stone buildings abandoned and caved in and a layer of ash covering everything exposed. It’s where he finds Lance, stopped halfway to the cruizer and staring through the broken window of what was once a corner shop or something to that effect.

His eyes rest tiredly on the dusty floor, but as Keith grows closer, it’s more and more obvious that what he’s looking at simply isn’t there - eyes dark and unblinking.

But it’s over. This whole fucking thing is over. They don’t have to worry about it anymore, the feeling finally sinking in as Keith picks up into a jog, black sneakers crunching the stones beneath them.

“Hey,” he smiles, bangs and the long jacket sleeves blowing back in the breeze as he finally reaches him. “It’s all done.”

But the smile doesn’t transfer. Neither does the excitement. 

No, when Keith comes to a stop in front of him, Lance simply turns his head away, lips pressed into a thin line, and starts in the direction of the cruizer without a word.

Keith’s smile falls slowly, brows coming together as he’s walked away from. “W-... Lance.”

But he keeps walking, farther and farther down the path, until he’s silhouetted by the three moons that hang heavily in the sky.

 

_-_-_

 

The ride back to the ship is worse than the ride away, Keith sitting quietly in the back seat as Shiro throws half-attempts of communication toward Lance, none of which are picked up.

Keith presses his knees together, the stockings slippery-soft compared to the thick material of the jacket still clutched around him. The passing overhead lights stutter slowly over Lance’s bare shoulders - over the smooth span of his long neck. Keith watches silently from behind and then lets his gaze fall over to the window.

Lance is mad at him. 

 

_-_-_

 

“What’s your deal?” 

They don’t make it three seconds alone on the ship before Keith jumps on it. 

And Lance is ready for the fight - has probably been mentally squared up since the Underground - but when he bites back, it’s with a venom that Keith’s never heard before. 

“You are seriously  _ so  _ fucking stupid - you know that right?” He counts the next one off on his fingers. “Who the hell takes drugs they don’t know about, in a place they don’t know about, with something they barely know about!”

“Okay  _ one, _ ” Keith retaliates with his own count-off, “I know Kreah.  _ Two,  _ we did a sweep of the building, and  _ three,  _ it got done so who the fuck cares how it happened?”

“I do!” Lance’s voice echoes off the hallway walls as he stalks forward. “Shiro does! You should too, considering it’s your own stupid body!”

“It  _ got done!”  _ Keith’s fists are clenched at his sides, “I thought you’d be happy it’s over but - jesus what the fuck do you  _ want  _ from me?”

“To think! Just to stop and-...and  _ think  _ in one situation in your entire life! God, you are so fucking  _ impulsive  _ and arrogant and I just-...you don’t care about what happens to you as long as the big picture gets done and it’s just so-”

“If you hate me so much then leave me the fuck alone!” Keith’s seeing red now, blood boiling and pulse rocketing because it's always been Lance - always been Lance starting shit and coming to him and wanting to fucking spend time together and - “I can’t wait until we go to that stupid spring because then I won’t have to be around you!” - and the last part slips out before he can stop it - before he can barricade the words behind his teeth and stop them because that’s not-

Lance’s posture straightens, brows furrowing, no words of his own but something very dangerous happening in his head as Keith’s declaration processes.

And - “Ugh, Lance,” Keith tries, huffing and eyes closing, “I didn’t mean-”

“No. You’re right.” Keith looks up, and Lance’s eyes are trained to the floor, dark like when they stared into the vacant corner building but darker still. “You’re right. We won’t have to be around each other after that.”

But no. No no no Keith didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. He just went off and yelled and is exactly what Lance says he is - impulsive. He goes to try again but Lance is already halfway down the hallway, head down as he walks away for the second time in a matter of an hour.

And Keith…

Keith.

The metal clang of his fist hitting off the wall hides his yell, pain blossoming in his knuckles as he pulls his hand away and holds it to his body with a wince. 

And he walks. He walks in the opposite direction toward the med-bay, too caught up in his own stupidity to notice Shiro’s stilled presence as he passes the next hallway over.

 

_-_-_

 

Pulling off medical tape is tricky with one hand. Even trickier when you’re still shaking with adrenaline. But Keith does his best, the swollen knuckles of his right hand leaving him to work with his non-dominant one. 

He pulls at the piece of medical tape hanging off the roll with this teeth, the things his impulsiveness made him say echoing in his brain.

Stupid. He’s so fucking stupid. He didn’t even mean what he said - doesn’t mean it now. When they reach the spring and their heatwave bullshit gets all figured out, it’s not like Keith doesn’t want anything to do with Lance again outside of Voltron. As much as he groaned and made a fuss, the time he spent with Lance before and after working through the waves wasn’t  _ all  _ terrible. And...during…

Keith grunts as he rips at the tape with his teeth but it only tears off half and longways, the rest of it sticking onto the roll. Doesn’t matter  _ what  _ he thinks about spending time with Lance - alone time or  _ alone time  _ \- he just completely obliterated his chances of continuing on after being cured. 

_ Rip _

“Damn it.”

The roll is pulled out of his mouth after that, metal fingers coming back for the ripped piece still clinging to his bottom lip.

Keith sighs, unmoving, and then begrudgingly hops up onto the table and lets Shiro take a look at this hand.

Shiro does so in silence, examining it carefully before letting it drop into Keith’s lap and going for what’s left of the tape roll. He peels a long strip, the noise unsettling against the white noise of the room, and then he tears it off the roll with little effort.

Keith’s hand throbs as he brings it up and Shiro begins to wrap the tape around his fingers, two at a time. It’s methodical. Practiced.

Keith sighs. “Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

But Shiro simply continues wrapping, gentle where it counts and attention where it needs to be. “I’m not saying anything unless you want me to.”

His voice is calm and kind and reminiscent of all the other times he’s come to his aid when Keith’s done some Dumb Shit™. As pitiful as it is, Keith’s happy to have it back, even if it means he hasn’t grown out of doing the Dumb Shit™ in the first place. Like punching a metal wall.

Or...saying things he doesn’t even mean.

When the final layer is secured into place, Keith mumbles an honest: “Thanks, Shiro,” and then hops off the table, preparing to go tend to his wounded pride alone in his room.

The dim buzz of the hallway lights are almost over him before Shiro says it, “Keith,” tone still as even but somehow more genuine now, “I know technically you were engaged an hour ago, but forgetting that…” He pauses...looks like he’s debating saying it at all...then: “...it’s not easy to find someone out here. So if you have...”

He meets Keith’s eyes then, honest. And he doesn’t even need to say anything else.

And neither does Keith.

_ So if you have... _ don’t be an impulsive asshole. And, more importantly, don’t throw it away.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if all goes according to plan, the next chapter will be the last! thank you for reading! i truly truly appreciate it!


	7. Wave Seven

Keith has fucked up before. This isn’t the first time he’s pulled some dumb shit and paid for it afterwards. And knowing him, it’s definitely not going to be the _last_ time he does it either. But, as much as his never-ending stubbornness doesn’t want to admit it, it’s different this time. Different, because he’s not the only one roaming around the castle like the end of the world is near. Oh no. This time, he’s pulled Lance into it. He’s pulled Lance into the bullshit and dragged him down _with_ Keith, and that’s where he’s decided to draw the line.

Plus...the possibility of not spending time with Lance - after the aphrodisiac in their system is done with - it’s still harder to swallow than Keith thinks it really has any right to be.

So.

“Hey Pidge.”

The open control panel on the elevator wall beeps as expert fingers entwine thin colored wires. “Hi.”

This isn’t really the destination, but Keith’s curiosity won’t let him proceed without figuring out: “What’re you doing?”

“Saving Hunk.” Something beeps again - two short pings - and the frown that works across Pidge’s face tell him that it isn’t the desired outcome. “Elevator’s stuck. Again. Third time this week.”

“Oh.”

“Mm.”

More fiddling. More beeping.

“You seen Lance?”

“Kitchen, I think,” Pidge answers, although the beginnings of irritation are starting to creep up into their tone.

It’s enough of a warning for Keith to nod, “Thanks,” and then continue on his way, leaving the green paladin alone to mumble pointed things into the control panel, even going so far as to mockingly imitate the double-beep that sounds as a response.

Lance isn’t in the kitchen when he reaches it - or at least, Keith doesn’t think he is, until he leans in a bit to find him off in the far corner by the counter.

He goes for it, not at all put off by Shiro’s presence across the room. Shiro already knows what’s going on - more than Keith really wishes he would - but that’s all water under the bridge now. _Now_ he has to focus on trying to fix this.

Lance is leaning his elbows on the counter, what he’s staring at coming into view as Keith walks closer - a bowl, several unopened space ingredients, a slip of paper with words scrawled on it - and Lance is just staring down at it all, unmoving.

Even when Keith comes to a stop next to him, a little closer than necessary, but he wants to keep his voice down. “Hey.”

Lance doesn’t look at him. “Hey.” He just continues slowly glancing between the ingredients, brows fixed in tired aggravation.

It’s Hunk’s handwriting on the slip of paper. Keith can see it now. “Uh… So yeah, I wanna talk to you about yesterday.”

It’s as if his words are barely reaching the boy in front of him - floating into the space between them but losing focus halfway and falling to the floor.

“Lance?”

“Yeah, so talk.”

It’s an order. Bizarre. Rubs Keith the wrong way and makes him take a step closer, voice lowered. “Uh, alright…” Metal clinks and pulls his attention away for a split second, Shiro stirring something into his mug across the room. Whether he can hear them is unknown. Keith has no idea. But. “I got mad. Obviously…” he turns back toward him. “And you know I say shit I don’t mean when I’m mad.”

Lance’s eyes fall from the ingredients but don’t leave the counter.

Slow blinking.

And Keith just has to push, whether he gets anything from it or not. “Okay, look. Once all this is done, we can still-”

“Hang on.”

The words catch in his throat, either from Lance’s interruption or from the sheer nerves it’s taking to talk about this, but they’re there - they’re stuck - and it doesn’t matter because Lance is speaking, voice low, as he straightens from the counter.

“Before you say anything, I was thinking about it and…I stick with what I said before. After we go to the spring tomorrow, it’d be better if we went back to how it used to be.”

Keith’s words dissolve...morph into something else. “...used to be?”

“Yeah.” His gaze drops from the counter to the floor. “With us.”

It’s a declaration that leaves Keith confused. _Used to be_ \- “What do you-”

“You can do your thing,” Lance’s voice is quiet - so fucking quiet, “And I’ll do my thing. And it’ll be-...”

...like it used to be.

Keith swallows.

Something went wrong. Something in his plan went haywire and hold on, he was supposed to be fixing this. But Lance...doesn’t _want_ it fixed? Suddenly he wants it the way it was before? When they worked together but that was it? When the effort to spend time together was only prompted by Shiro or Hunk or Allura or _someone_ besides themselves?

But Lance had seemed so upset when Keith accidentally proposed it last night. Like he hadn’t even thought of them calling it off after the spring. So why the hell is he standing here, now, right in front of him saying that he’s changed his mind?

Keith can’t fight back the frown edging its way across his face. “That’s...that’s what you want?” Keep it together.

Lance is keeping it together. Even if he hasn’t looked at him _once._ “Yeah.”

And Keith can’t-...he’s just having a little bit of a hard time- “...really?”

But Lance’s eyes are focusing back on the ingredients again, his brows fixing together as he reaches out and tries to pry open a container. “Yeah,” he says.

Yeah.

Just like that.

Alright then.

Keith nods. Swallows down whatever is threatening to rise in his throat. “...’kay,” he manages, although it’s barely over a whisper, “Never mind, then.”

He turns before he can say something stupid. Before he can lash out in the impulsive way he loves so much. And as he walks, head forward as best he can, he tries to ignore the way Shiro glances up at him as he passes - very briefly - before he’s disappeared into the privacy of the hallway.

 

_-_-_

 

Three moons. Pale pink flowers growing and glowing a soft pink beneath their rays - beneath Keith’s gaze - beneath a blanket of silence that gently falls over everything as Keith waits in the royal garden.

Like he always does.

The robes don’t feel odd over his skin anymore, almost more familiar than his paladin suit these days with how many unplanned trips he’s made back onto Ahtian soil.

Rahvi’s late. Prince stuff, Keith figures. All the more time to sit and think about Lance, unfortunately. There’s no sugar coating it...Keith got rejected. Simple as that. Hell, it’s probably nothing new for Lance. Just another brush off that somehow comes across as gentle in person but then hurts even more when you sit down and think about it. Like Keith. Like how Keith is right now, mind running and soft pink low in his field of vision.

He should’ve seen it coming. Why would Lance ever actually want to continue this-... _whatever_ they’re doing once they’re cured? How’d that thought even work its way into Keith’s mind? Was it his negative reaction when Keith told him he didn’t want to keep this going last night? Maybe that was just because he was yelling and being an overall asshole. But okay, what about how cool they’ve been around each other lately? How relatively calm and two steps from content they’ve been? And maybe Lance has already forgotten, but explain that night after the marriage proposal was brought to light - when they had sat together and held hands and...well, when they kissed...that honest, unmistakable kiss that Lance had pressed against Keith’s mouth…

The wind picks up, flowers and bushes rustling in its wake.

Keith is not a romantic.

He’s _not._

But.

“Evening…”

The voice dances in on the tail end of the breeze, tranquil and steady.

Keith stands from the bench and turns.

“I apologize for my late arrival.” Rahvi’s courteous as always. A prince through and through.

Keith could take a few chapters from that book. “It’s cool. Getting kinda used to this part of the garden anyway.”

The prince smiles fondly, its warmth echoed in the glow around them. “Of course. Well, please know that you are always welcome here. This particular flora has seemed to take a liking to you.”

The flowers below glimmer in response as Keith glances down to them, their bulbs almost seeming to bend in his direction as he lets out a scoff of a chuckle. They have feelings? Of course they do. Well, at least _some_ flowers are looking out for him.

“The message from the Underground reached us today - reached Father.” The slight drop in Rahvi’s voice has Keith glancing back up at him, the prince’s posture remaining regal, but his gaze falling toward the flowers in silent thought. “Officially, your ties to the sovereignty have been cut.”

It should be a relief. An astronomical weight lifted off his shoulders. Yet and still… “Uh, Rahvi...I don’t know if I’ve ever actually apologized for all this.”

The prince’s reaction is quick - dismissing. “There’s no need-”

“There is, though,” Keith cuts in before his mistakes can be so freely forgiven. “I knew how you felt. And I took advantage of it because I couldn’t get my own shit together.” He took advantage and then...and then _rejected_ him. Keith takes a steady breath, and then just says it. Finally. After all this time. “I know what it feels like. And I’m sorry.”

Another gust of wind sweeps through the garden, more bracing this time, and the prince moves with it, steps upon steps until he’s close enough to reach out and pluck a leaf that’s landed in Keith’s hair.

“It’s in the past,” he hums thoughtfully, examining the leaf for a moment before letting the breeze pull it away again. “And I forgive you. Of course.”

There’s a sentimentality in his tone that Keith can’t ignore, and when the tightness in his chest loosens for the first time, he realizes that that’s what he’s been waiting for. Not the official announcement. Not the message from the Underground. Just-

“Okay,” he says. Poetically. Because his brain won’t form anything else.

Rahvi smiles down at him. “Okay.”

And there’s still so much he wants to figure out - to talk about - with Kreah and the rebels and their ties to Rahvi, but Keith can’t find it in himself to push it for now. He’s emotionally exhausted, which, granted, is not a level that’s difficult for him to get to, but he’s still there. And he’s tired. And…

“So uh…” Keith digs in the folded pockets of his robes, fingers tracing over the solid edges of the object there. “It’s kinda weird, but… Here.”

The prince stares at the device in Keith’s palm as he presents it - compact and rectangular and the screen glowing almost as brightly as the moons behind him.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he admits, although the curious glint in his eye is obvious.

“It’s uh…” Keith redirects his thoughts. “I have one too. So if we ever wanted to, you know...check in...or something…”

One of these days he’ll be able to do it - just fucking say what he’s trying to say in a normal tone with normal words.

“Cross galaxy communication?”

Keith blinks, the innocent interest growing in the man in front of him. Oh. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. “I know it’s weird. You don’t have to-”

But Rahvi’s already taking it from him, smile calculated but honest. “Thank you. I will accept this very thoughtful gift, of course.” He takes one more look at it and then places it away in his pocket, all graceful movements that don’t quite match the genuine enthusiasm.

It’s endearing, and Keith has to admit that he’s grown a certain level of attachment - probably some sort of influence of Lance’s that Lance doesn’t even realize he’s passed on. It’s not awful, he guesses. Even if it means he’s adopted someone else’s habits without realizing it. _Lance’s_ habits, nonetheless.

“I should...get back to the ship…”

The prince is lost in his own thoughts as well, made clear by the way he seems to snap back into the moment at hand, smile gentle. “Ah, yes of course.”

Keith steps further and brings his arms around him before he can catch himself. Sentimentality. Another trait. Something he never would’ve done without the influence of one very specific person. But Rahvi doesn’t question the out of character move. He simply returns the hug - strong and confident.

A friend.

“You’ll find someone,” Keith ensures quietly, the prince’s returning fate never once forgotten during this whole ordeal. “Before the king does.”

It must be something he needs to hear - hasn’t had a lot of people say to him - because Rahvi’s peaceful when he lets go, stark white robes wrinkled a bit. “Let us hope.” He smooths them out carefully, then looks at Keith. “Perhaps I shall even be as happy as you.”

The last part sticks in his brain - hangs on and won’t let go. “What do you mean?”

But the prince just smiles fondly, plucks away another wayward leaf that’s settled in Keith’s hair, and then bows slightly, “Until we meet again, Brave Paladin of Voltron” his feet carrying him toward the entrance to the garden alcove.

It leaves Keith in silent thought, more leaves circling at his feet as he stands there. The flowers bend up toward him, questioning. Or supporting. He doesn’t know because he doesn’t really notice it, the prince’s words echoing in his head...

“Oh,” then for real, his voice _actually_ echoing from behind the alcove’s walls, getting softer as he grows farther away. “The necklace around your flowers. You remember it?”

Keith wracks his brain, trying to pinpoint until the image of the vase of cream colored proposal flowers sitting on the table in the ship comes to mind. Then the thin string tied around them. Oh. It’s not a string. It’s a necklace. “I remember,” he says, although he’s not sure where he’s supposed to be directing his voice.

Doesn’t matter, because the prince is answering anyway, voice much farther off now - knowing and trusting and almost amused. “Give it to him.”

Keith frowns, pulse quickening on its own accord. “Who?”

But the wind has swept it up - carried it away toward the moonbeams and further still. And then Keith is alone again, truly alone this time.

The flowers bend toward him.

He doesn’t need the prince’s answer.

He knows exactly who he means.

 

_-_-_

 

The universe is not nice. It has nice _moments_ , like being forgiven by someone for being an ass-hat, but overall it is not nice. It will take the nice moment and shove it into the Intergalactic Garbage Disposal™ and then load you back up with not nice stuff. Like tripping and scraping half the skin off your knee on the way back to the ship. Or remembering that your newly favorite person doesn’t want to be by you anymore. Or, you know, getting hit with a heatwave so hard that it literally brings you to your knees at first impact. Because why not. Because that’s what it _does._

The universe is not nice and Keith wants to take a break from it for a while. Just...sit back and not have to deal for a few days. But the universe is the universe and it’s not nice and here he is, power-walking through the ship’s various hallways because he’s hot and sweaty and the robes don’t do a very good job at hiding what he’s trying to hide. But the elevator’s right there, at the end of the hallway, and all he needs to do is ride it up and get to his room and then things will be okay.

Except.

The universe is not nice.

Keith’s heart hits his knees as the other presence reaches the closed elevator doors at the exact same time as he does. He comes from a different direction and it blindsides both of them and Keith is just very done with the universe right now.

Because why else would Lance be standing right next to him, attention purposely forward and fingers tapping at his thighs, very obviously as equally aroused, except as one great big ‘fuck you’ from the universe?

Keith steadies his breathing, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face as they stand there, awkward and silent as the elevator takes its sweet time reaching the ground floor. They’re both going to the same one - the floor with the bedrooms. It’s obvious they’ve both got the same plan set in motion. Just...alone this time.

And it’s awkward. So fucking awkward.

Keith can hear Lance swallow and then the doors part in the middle, both of them already inside before they can open fully. Their fingers smash against the same button in unison, Lance’s pushing roughly against Keith’s fingernail on accident.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, although it’s clearly just a formality - no actual sincerity behind it.

Keith just nods, “S’fine,” because this needs to hurry the fuck up.

The elevator doors close and it begins to lift into motion, once again blanketing them in a silent awkwardness that Keith can feel in his core.

C’mon.

C’mon c’mon c’mon.

Lance clears his throat.

Keith doesn’t need to look to know his face is red. He’s seen it enough times when they’re like this to know exactly how he looks. Even if he doesn’t want to think about it. Which he doesn’t. But he is anyway.

The numbers on the small display increase as they climb. Up, and up, and up. So slow. So fucking slow.

Come ooooon.

Keith is about ready to hit the button again out of sheer impatience when the lights flicker in warning, and then the elevator car comes to an abrupt halt. Midfloor. Just jerks to a stop and sets both of them in a bit of a stumble that leaves Keith frozen because…

No.

No no no.

“Don’t tell me,” he grits, but it comes out as more of a whine than anything. Don’t tell him they’re fucking stuck.

“No way.” Lance is moving without a second’s hesitation, assessing the panel of buttons with a flurry of panic. “There’s no freakin’ way.”

And they might as well have broken free from the system and be plummeting to their death with the way Keith’s stomach sinks in his body. Because shit. They’re stuck. They’re stuck, no fucking way.

“No,” he panics, pushing past Lance and slamming his finger against the ‘door-open’ button because, “No no no-”

“Dude stop!” Lance is back behind him in an instant, smacking his hand away from the panel but it’s not working, “You’re not helping!” because Keith’s trying again and Lance is very close behind him and Keith can feel him press up against him and Keith freaks out a little, turning and pushing and Lance is stumbling back on his own because they’re too close. Too much body heat. Too much everything.

Keith presses himself into the farthest corner of the small elevator and tries to catch his breath but it’s hard. And he’s hard. And he could feel how hard Lance was behind him and- Fuck. Focus.

“Hit the help button,” he says into the wall, but Lance must hear him because he moves back towards the panel and there’s a beep.

Help. Pidge. As much as they’re probably sick of temporarily fixing this stupid elevator, he and Lance need them.

“It figures,” Lance mumbles, voice like gravel in all its agony. “Only one more night and what happens…”

Keith tries to block it out - his voice. There’s a struggle in it that Keith knows all too well. And he can’t think about it right now. Not when they’re stuck. Not when they’re gonna be in here for god knows how long, trapped and battling this stupid fucking heatwave on their own.

The seconds tick by in silence.

Long.

Stretching.

Nothing.

Then:

“We can take turns if we have to,” Lance says after some unknown amount of time has passed.

And it takes a second for Keith to understand what he means before he’s closing his eyes, the heat rushing over him unhelpfully. “Jesus, shut up. We’re not doing that-”

“I’m just saying, if it gets too-”

“I’m not jacking off in front of you now _please_ shut up.”

Lance shuts up. Thankfully. Although the new rush of heat makes Keith’s grip on the railing tighten. He presses his face against the cool metal of the wall. Relief, but just barely. Jesus, Lance. It’s way too early for that. Even with how far along they are in the wave, they literally just got stuck. It’s _way_ too early to even be considering that kind of shit.

Although.

No.

Keith rolls his face against the metal - his forehead - his other cheek. Calm down. Calm the fuck down.

Lance takes a shaky breath from the other side of the elevator - ragged and heated - and Keith can imagine the look on his face, the way he drags a hand through his hair, jaw tensing as it drops open like it does when Keith gives him head.

Damn it.

“Stop,” Keith huffs.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re breathing.”

“You want me to stop _breathing?”_

The incredulity in Lance’s tone is as unapologetic as it is unamused.

And Keith can’t blame him but: “Like _that,_ yes.”

When Lance doesn’t respond, Keith glances over his shoulder, unsurprised by how Lance has sunk to the floor, his legs bent out in front of him and head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed.

It looks comfortable - more comfortable than smashing your face into a metal wall, at least. So Keith turns fully, ready to follow suit when the elevator jerks downward again, the floor dropping out from under him without warning. He flails, arms thrown out in front of him as he tries to catch himself on the way down to the unforgiving surface of the floor.

He does - catch himself, that is - just, it’s Lance’s bent knees that he catches himself _on,_ hands grabbing tightly as he looks up through sweaty bangs at the surprised eyes staring right back down at him.

Keith gets his bearings immediately, briskly removing himself from Lance’s legs and pressing himself against the wall before he can do something stupid. He’s closer now - sitting almost shoulder to shoulder and facing the same direction now. Which, oddly enough, is better because he technically can’t see Lance at all if he just stares straight ahead.

All according to plan (he wishes).

Lance doesn’t say anything. Graciously. Nothing at all.

And Keith focuses on his breathing.

One more night. That’s all he had to get through. Just one more.

“Dude, stop.”

Keith frowns, eyes still closed. “What.”

“Breathing.”

“Hilarious.”

“No seriously. I get it now.”

Keith chances a look over, the struggle written very plainly across Lance’s face. His chest rises and falls much quicker than it should. Like it does when they’ve already gotten started. Or, well, when they _used_ to do stuff.

It feeds a lot of pretty pictures into Keith’s brain - bare skin, Lance laying out underneath him, the sweat rolling down his face in the exact same way as he arches his back off the bed, pretty tan skin against soft white bed sheets.

Keith shifts uncomfortably against the floor, robes brushing over things that definitely shouldn’t be brushed over if he’s planning on keeping hold of his last shred of sanity. But it does. And it rubs in just the right way. “Hhh-fuck…”

“Yeah _definitely_ need you to stop doin’ _that,”_ Lance breathes out, burying his head where he’s propped his arms against his knees.

But Keith can’t help it. Honestly. This is the longest he’s ever had to wait for relief. And the alien heat doesn’t give a shit where he is or what he’s doing or how quickly he can find somewhere private. When it hits, it hits. But he doesn’t have to tell Lance that. He’s clearly having his own trouble.

“Okay...” Lance’s voice is muffled in his arms, the back of his neck flushed as Keith looks over to him. “So...maybe... _one_ more time...would be okay…”

It’s broken. Piece by piece. But Keith has just enough sense to put it all together - to wish he _didn’t_ have the sense to put it together because seriously?

“Are you _kidding_ me?”

“Not kidding you,” Lance mumbles defeatedly into his arms.

And Keith could kill him right now. Because as very nice and exciting as that is, how the hell does that help them in this exact moment. “You realize where we are, right?”

“Mm.”

Oh my god. “Please explain to me how talking about hooking up helps us when we’re stuck in an elevator.” It’s a long sentence, but Keith’s fueled with just enough spite to get through it.

He’s almost proud of himself - almost - until Lance picks his head up from his arms, bangs sweaty and pushed over his forehead and eyes the darkest they’ve ever been as they lock onto Keith’s.

And Keith-... Oh no. Oh _no._ “We are _not_ fucking in this elevator.”

“No?” Lance asks, but his gaze has dropped down to Keith’s mouth, and it’s just enough to start up that self consciousness.

Keith presses his lips into a firm line - the heat swirling in his stomach. “N-no.” Yes. They should. They should fuck in the elevator. 

Wait, _no. W_ hat the hell? That’s all they need - to be in the throes of getting it on, only to be rescued by Pidge halfway through.

Lance keeps his face tilted toward Keith, but lets his head rest back against the wall, his throat bared in a way he probably doesn’t mean but gets to Keith nonetheless. “Why not?”

He licks his lips, Keith’s eyes darting down to watch before he forces himself to look back up. “Obvious reasons.”

“Mm. ‘Me’-reasons?”

“No,” and damn it, he’s look at his lips again. “Obvious reasons.”

He’s just repeating himself, but Lance doesn’t seem to mind, the smallest trace of a smirk dancing across his mouth as he brings his head back down so they’re eye-level. “Just a kiss, then.”

It’s cute and hot and it hits Keith right where it counts, his eyes falling closed because he can’t even look at him - can’t look at the blush on his cheeks - the heavy-lidded stare. “Lance.”

“Just one,” he says, very quietly, and Keith can feel the heat of his breath against his mouth.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“N-...no.”

“Why not?”

Keith’s heart pounds against his ribcage. “...because it won’t be just one.” Because if it starts, it’s not going to stop. Not for the elevator. Not for Pidge. Not for anything.

Keith knows it.

And Lance knows it.

But:

“C’mon, Keith…”

His mouth is right there. His heat. Keith wants to reach out and take but he knows he can’t. Knows he’s better than that. Knows if he did, he’d be starting something that he can’t finish in the time he might need it finished by. And Keith is impulsive. He is. But he doesn’t have to be.

The elevator car shifts as he pulls away - gets to his feet and closes the space between himself and the opposite wall because he can do it. He doesn’t have to answer to this stupid fucking heat inside of him if he doesn’t want to.

The sound of shuffling fabric has him turning on the balls of his feet, Lance righting himself and standing against the wall across from him. There’s something going on in his head but he doesn’t let it show on his face.

Okay.

They’re okay.

Everything’s okay.

Except Lance is looking at Keith. And Keith realizes it’s because he hasn’t stopped staring at Lance. And now that he realizes it, sweat sticking his robes to the small of his back, he can’t look away if his life depends on it.

Because _jesus,_  Lance is so attractive. So fucking hot. How did Keith not realize this from the moment he saw him at the garrison? How’d he miss that face? That jawline? The skinny hips but full shoulders? Is it because he hadn’t gotten close enough to see? To actually touch?

Keith swallows down the lump in his throat, electricity sparking in his fingertips.

He wants to touch.

He shouldn't but he wants to touch.

He...he _needs_ to.

His entire body is shaking but he pushes himself from the railing, zeroing in on where Lance’s arms are already reaching out for him and he presses against him - their lips parted and ready just as it happens - the elevator jerks up, the lights flickering before remaining on and-

And they’re climbing.

Up and up and up.

And Keith is frozen, mouth hovering only a breath away from Lance’s - Lance’s hands completely still on the small of his back at they stand there, stuck in time because…

Keith blinks.

Pulls back a little when Lance’s hands fall.

And the little display is beeping...beeping...beeping.

And it’s not until they come to a stop that time rushes back into play, Keith quickly stepping back from where he’s cornered Lance and straightening his robes, Lance running a hand through his hair just as the elevator doors open up, the familiar hallway lights like a beacon of hope as they quickly step out from their prison.

Keith nearly trips over Pidge on his way out, mumbling some sort of thanks as his feet carry him down the hallway without looking back, the door to his bedroom calling to him as he practically jogs to it.  

The air in the hallway is so much cooler compared to the stale air of the elevator. And as Keith comes to a stop in front of his door, he’s almost got it open when a hand grabs at his wrist, pulling him along as Lance hurries past him. And Keith’s brain has stopped. It’s stopped completely. He can’t process due to poor blood flow until he’s physically being pulled into Lance’s room and Lance is crowding him up against the closed door, lips slotted against his and moving quickly and the heat swirls so dangerously low that Keith has to push him away - has to just take a second because jesus fucking christ-

Lance doesn’t have a chance to filter through a mess of confusion because it just takes a second - literally - and then Keith is moving forward, kissing him too hard, pushing him too hard, settling over him on the bed too hard but he can’t help it because his chest hurts. His heart is tight. It feels like Lance has pushed past his robes and his ribcage and squeezed because it’s-...it’s the last time.

It’s the last time.

Keith tries to breathe evenly, an impossible task with how Lance flips them over and then rubs down against him through their clothes, heavy pleasure blossoming quicker than it should. He has to breathe. He has to relax. But it’s the last time and Keith finds himself throwing his arms around Lance’s middle, bringing him in tight and close as they move against each other, riding after the tip-over that’s right there - just a little more - just a little closer.

Lance comes first - practically yells out into the crook of Keith’s shoulder - and when Keith tips over after him, it isn’t white and black and blue and pretty like it should be - like it usually is. It’s upsetting. Painful in a way that he doesn’t want it to be. And Keith just holds on, head buried in Lance’s chest as they try to catch their breaths.

It takes a while - to come down. To _calm_ down.

It takes a while and Keith just stares up at the ceiling, at nothing in particular.

Lance has rolled off of him long ago, but hasn’t left his side. “It’s late,” he says.

The clock on his desk says 11:40 Earth-time.

Keith presses the side of his face into Lance’s pillow, voice quiet. “Can I just stay here...?”

It takes a long time for the answer to reach him. There’s really no reason to stay. Keith’s room is only a few doors down.

But Lance says it anyway: “Uh...sure. That’s fine.”

And even if it doesn’t have the same amount of conviction as his usual responses, Keith accepts it. It’s fine, right? Even if they’ve never stayed the night afterward, it’s okay. Just this once.

He rolls over and lets his eyes close, falling asleep before Lance can look down and take in the sight of him laying next to him, curled up and breathing calmly and bangs falling sweetly over his eyes.

 

_-_-_

 

Keith is used to waking up to a lot of different sounds.

Other kids.

Emergency alarms.

Soft humming, melodic and free yet hushed, he’s not. It’s nice though, his eyes fluttering open peacefully as the song’s melody climbs and falls like the tide, always the same tempo, almost enough to fall back to sleep to.

Keith lets his blurry vision focus on the singer, Lance’s back to him as he sways gently to whatever is playing in the headphones over his ears - Pidge’s. He reaches up, hands smoothing over his face in the mirror, something lavender left in the wake of his fingers. Some sort of skin-care.

Keith can’t help the fond hum, watching contently from where he lays in Lance’s bed - a first that had brought with it no added benefits like spooning, but Keith’s not going to focus on that now. Not when he’s got Lance, blissfully unaware as he raises the pitch and continues to rub the lotion against the bridge of his nose - his cheeks - his cheekbones and higher up until:

“Oh,” his eyes meet Keith’s in the reflection, tone light. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

Keith drags his attention away, embarrassed to be caught staring but not so much that he wants to leave. “Mm-mm.”

“‘Kay good.” He continues with his morning routine like nothing’s happened, the sway not leaving his body one bit. And then he says it. “Big day, huh?”

It’s a question but it’s not, and it leaves Keith furrowing his eyebrows in confusion until reality hits him - comes sinking in uninvited. Today’s the day they’re going to the spring. “Yeah.”

Well, it was thoughtful of the universe to let him have _one_ nice thing before shitting all over him again.

“Think we’re going soon so you should get a move on.” Lance is finishing up his routine when Keith meets his reflection’s eyes again, the lavender rubbed almost entirely into his skin.

He sits up, “Right,” and pulls himself together enough to rearrange the folds of his robes before standing, taking one more peek at him before heading toward the door.

And just as Lance is about to break out another bottle of moisturizer, it happens - the silence, then the soft “Lance?” that pulls his attention toward the door, toward where Keith is now next to him, waiting for him to turn so he can lean forward, just barely on his tiptoes as he presses his lips against Lance’s - firm and sure but unmistakably sad. And when he leans away, Lance follows a bit without realizing, eyes blinking slowly and lips parting as Keith turns without a word, and then disappears out his door.

The music continues on.

But suddenly he can’t find the beat.

 

_-_-_

 

It’s a stupid move and Keith has to admit he’s glad he goes for it, because he’d rue the day he missed the opportunity to be impulsive in a good way.

 

_-_-_

 

The planet with the glowing crystals and the evil blue flowers is exactly as they’d left it months ago, their boots trampling down the coral colored grass as they make their way toward the cave.

Shiro’s standing by in the castle, something that causes Lance to have a minor freak out when Keith tells him that Shiro knows - that well, Keith had told him about their issue the night they went Underground.

But moving on, the cave is exactly where they left it, as are the crystals, as are the hanging blue flowers that Lance makes sure to make a wide arc around, per Keith’s vehement request. It’s not until they venture deeply enough into the cave that Keith finally lets up, the sight of the large body of deep blue water registering bittersweetly into view.

“There is it,” Lance says, but it comes off more to himself than anything.

Keith is fine with it, busy cycling through some of his own emotions at the moment. “Let’s just do it.”

The cave’s dark walls are damp and dripping, sinewy bands of light from the water dancing against them as the two of them approach the pool. When they reach the water’s edge, they wait - hesitate - and Lance is already looking at him when he glances over.

“Ready?”

Keith nods.  

Even with all this internal drama that’s been going on in his head lately, yes. He’s ready. They’ve dealt with this awful alien pollen in their systems for far too long now. It’s far past time to get control back.

Keith moves forward first, Lance’s boots crunching into the ground as he follows just a step behind him. The water is cool even through the hard material of Keith’s paladin suit, the chill working its way from his feet, to his knees, until he’s waded far enough in that he’s waist-deep. And if he’s not mistaken, there’s a certain shimmer in the ripples. A shimmer that wasn’t there when they’d first approached the spring.

“Kinda pretty,” Lance says thoughtfully behind him, his arms dipping in to spread through the water around him.

Keith lowers his hands in to do the same. The glittering particles swim peacefully around his fingers as they tread. Kinda pretty. Very pretty.

Lance is closer now when he says it. “Need to dunk our heads in, ya think?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” he guesses, not really one for completely submerging himself in a liquid he isn’t 100% sure about. But if it’s for a good cause… “Guess we should.”

Lance nods, eyeing the surface of the water for a moment before heaving a breath and disappearing in all the way. It looks relatively harmless, and the coolness of spring _does_ feel amazing.

Fuck it.

Keith squeezes his eyes shut and fills his lungs, feet kicking out underneath him so he can slip beneath the surface in one smooth movement. The water’s hold coats over him - thicker than normal liquid but only a little. He can feel the chill much easier on his skin - his ears - his eyelids. It’s cold but it’s also tingling. Moving. Alive. And in that very brief moment, whether it truly is brief or the spring isn’t yet ready to let go of his submerged body, the heat that’s been lingering inside of him fizzles out. Extinguishes. Just... _disappears._

Keith’s breath comes back to him in a dramatic gasp as he breaches the spring’s surface, chest heaving and lungs aching while the water settles around him.

It’s gone.

He turns for Lance. And turns. And keeps turning until he’s done a 360.

“Lance?”

The sparkling particles that were dancing through his fingers have left him to congregate with the others - a swirl of glitter that shines onto the dark cave walls as they dance around a central purpose a few feet away. Then, a considerable pulse of light. Then, nothing. _Then:_

Lance gasps as he reappears for air, eyes pinched shut and lungs fighting for breath. It’s like watching himself, Keith vaguely thinks while waiting for Lance to recover.

He does recover. Quickly. “Did you feel it?”

The excited smile stretching across his face is contagious and impossible to fight. “Yeah. Weird, right?”

“Totally weird!”

It’s contagious and to be honest, it feels good, the weight lifted and an airy feeling spreading in Keith’s chest as he feels his smile grow even through his ragged breath. It’s only rivaled by Lance, who’s laughing cooly as he floats in front of him, eyes seeming to trail over the bands of light gracing across Keith’s face as his chuckle dies down and his smile evens out into something warm...thoughtful…

It’s a moment slowed in time, for whatever reason. And then:

“We should-... Let’s head back.” It’s Keith who says it, and it’s enough to lift Lance from his thoughts long enough to nod, smile full again.

“Yeah.”

 

_-_-_

 

Keith is free.

Keith is freeeeee.

He can think about whatever the fuck he wants and he doesn’t have to answer to some higher-up mystical bullshit about it.

He celebrates by taking a blessedly uninterrupted nap and then bothering Pidge, who has calmed down considerably about the elevator, for as long as possible before being shooed into another room. It’s why Keith finds himself in the rec room, collapsing onto the couch next to Lance as Hunk continues on with whatever he’s talking about in a passionate stance in front of them. He comes into the conversation halfway, so it takes a while of listening to catch onto Hunk’s topic of choice - a newly discovered room in the castle’s lowest floor that houses some sort of soil/seed production simulator.

Keith listens on silently, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch and taking a moment to appreciate the fact that he won’t be interrupted by a heatwave this time. And neither will Lance. Lance, who is listening but hasn’t offered any feedback since Keith came in. Who has grown uncharacteristically still next to him. Who, Keith now realizes, isn’t being very Lance-like at _all,_ actually. It’s also when he realizes how close they are - how very very little space Keith unintentionally left between them when he joined him on the couch. There’s barely any room at all, Lance’s shoulders tensed in front of where Keith’s casually thrown his arm on the couch’s back behind him.

And Keith…

He...he didn’t mean to do that.

The signal to move is already sent from Keith’s brain to his limbs when Lance stands, beating out instincts, to continue listening to Hunk but from a considerably more comfortable distance this time.

It all happens in a breath of a second but the sour little twist in Keith’s gut sinks in like tar. Molasses.

He zones out for the rest of Hunk’s story.

 

_-_-_

 

Lance slides away or leaves the same room three more times that day before Keith catches himself - before it finally fucking dawns on him why he just happens to be in the same space as Lance over and over and over again. It’s not a coincidence. It’s not just the way things fall into place.

He’s doing it on purpose. Somehow, somewhere in the back of his mind, Keith’s making the subconscious decision to be close…

As hard as it is to swallow, he’s-...he’s not ready to be done spending time with Lance, no matter what the “plan” is. But he needs to be. He has to. The pollen’s gone and so is the acceptable pull and he just needs to get the fuck over himself.

So when he turns the corner and comes face first with the one person who’s been avoiding him tonight, Lance’s hands flying up to steady himself around Keith’s forearms, there’s maybe a second too long of looking, and then Keith pulls himself away and forces his legs to continue moving until he’s reached his own bedroom door.

 

_-_-_

 

Space is cold. He thinks he’s said that before.

It’s colder than movies and books and all that shit likes to make you think it is. The stars are pretty and the periodic bands of passing color are nice but at the end of the day, when Keith is just _lying there,_ just _being,_ he can feel the cold sink into every part of him. He pulls his blanket up to his chin, eyelids heavy as they rest on the ceiling with nothing to take his mind off of the current events - nothing to distract him from his own thoughts.

Like:

They’re touching down on a brand new planet with a brand new set of issues tomorrow.

Like:

How many hours of sleep would he get if he fell asleep right this second?

Like:

He only slept next to Lance that one time but now sleeping by himself feels out of place. How does that make sense?

Keith flips over, smashing his face into his pillow and effectively knocking that last thought back into the depths where it came from. For a couple minutes. It’s a good question. That’s why it keeps resurfacing. It’s a good question and he’s probably never going to find the answer to it since things are back to normal now and there’s no excuse to be near Lance. Even _if_ it makes him sad. He’ll admit it. Even _if_ that pull on his heart is pretty heavy, even when his thoughts are elsewhere - a constant, burdensome feeling that of course only weighs heavier at night because that’s what disappointment does. It finds the time you’re most vulnerable, with the least amount of things to distract yourself with, and it swells up nice and big until you can’t do anything but focus on it because you’re a sucker. You’re at its mercy.  

Keith flips. Smashes the other side of his face into the pillow.

This is dumb.

Alright, he’ll just admit it.

Here: he wants to see Lance. Okay? Is that what the universe wants from him? He’s sad and he’s disappointed that this thing didn’t work out in his favor and he just _wants to see Lance._

That’s it.

But it’s 3am Earth-time. Which means even if Keith worked up the nerve to go a few rooms down the hall, it’s late and Lance is fast asleep.

But...technically he could wake up for him - _would_ wake up for him...right? He might be a little mad in the beginning, but once Keith said-...

Said…

Keith blinks at the holoscreen on his desk. That’s right. What would he even say?

_Hey, I know you’re sleeping but I just wanted to see you._  

No.

_Can you answer this question for me? It’s about when you let me sleep in your bed with you last night and my brain won’t let it go._

Creepy.

_Sorry for waking you. We have to be up early tomorrow and I know you like your beauty sleep but everything that happened with us made me realize something about how I feel around you._

Ugh.

Keith grits his teeth and then kicks his blankets off with a huff. Fuck it. He’ll figure it out when he gets there. It’s not something you can plan, he decides, pulling his shirt on over his head and raking his fingers through his hair and just _desperately_ fighting down the way his pulse is trying to pick up when he pushes himself out into the hallway, eyes squinting even in the dull light until they can focus, the weird footstep-sounds heading towards him making much more sense now that he can see because they-

They _are_ footsteps.

Keith’s pace slows to dramatic stop.

They _are_ footsteps, stopping in front of him.

Lance’s footsteps.

It’s Lance.

“O-oh…” He sounds just as hesitantly surprised. Just as cautious in the dim light.

And Keith doesn’t know what to say. Because he’s-...Lance is...out here? The only thing in the direction he’s heading is Keith’s room and the elevator. Could he have been-...?

“Bathroom…?” Lance asks, still just as hesitant. And it means he’s been trying to work out why Keith’s in the hallway just as much as Keith was.

But…

Keith shakes his head no, words stuck until he forces them. “Why’re you...coming this way?” Because he needs to know. Because it’s important. Because the weight of disappointment is threatening to lift in his chest if Lance is out here for the reason he thinks it is - hopes it is.

The lights are dim but the clear lack of confidence in the way Lance carries himself is obvious - bright and blinking and in the open as his lips part to speak - to answer. But there’s nothing. And he’s watching. From the floor to Keith’s face. To the wall’s corner. To Keith. To the floor again until his brows are knitting together in surprising irritation and he’s moving forward without warning, “Ugh, it’s too late for this,” taking both of Keith’s hands in his own, and pulling him back toward his door.

It swishes open and closed and Keith’s inside by the time his brain has registered how gentle his grip actually is. Startlingly gentle. A kind of gentle that Keith misses when Lance releases him to take a few steps backward, eyes closed, and then collapse back on the edge of his bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands in his hair.

There’s frustration there. Impatience. And then, Keith can see it from where he’s been left standing in the middle of the room, acceptance.

“Lance?”

“I wanna kiss you.” Acceptance even if his head is hanging, voice low. “And hold your hand and-... And I wanna kiss you.”

It’s a confession that both confuses and washes over Keith slowly...from the toes up...and when it reaches the place that hurts the most, he finds the strength to finally speak. “So kiss me.”

“I want to.”

“Then do it.”

“I-...” Lance’s hands drop down to his face. “I’m scared…”

The silence that follows is thick. It’s the first time he’s shown it. To Keith at least. And it makes the heavy tar in Keith’s chest churn. “Why…” But he knows. He knows because he’s been dealing with this since the night he was proposed to.

So when Lance doesn’t say anything, he takes it upon himself to take the next step, figuratively and literally, the metal floor cold against his toes as he walks until he’s come to a stop right in front of him. Because he knows the feeling, even if it’s not completely the same.

“It’s different now. That’s why it’s scary,” he says, Lance lifting his face from his hands to look up at him. “So avoid me like you have been all day.”

He winces, “Keith-”

“Like you wanted to in the first place.”

“I don’t-”

“It’s done now,” Keith doesn’t expect the emotion that creeps into his voice, his fists clenching at his sides as he zeros down at him. “It’s done now so just stick to what you said unless you actually mean it.”

Lance’s eyes gloss over - glisten in the faint lamplight beside them. But he doesn’t bite back. He doesn’t engage. He simply reaches out, linking hands with both of Keith’s fists until he can slip their fingers together. And then says, just over a whisper, “I mean it.”

It trips Keith up. Trips him up so completely that all he can do is watch their fingers lace together in front of him. Because… Because no. He can’t actually mean it. “Lance-”

“I mean it,” he repeats, more confidently this time. And then, with even more: “I mean it, Keith.”

It’s honest. And intimate. And-...and Keith can feel it work up into his chest, thick in the heavy tar.

And it lifts.

Lighter.

Softer.

He means it.

“I wanna kiss you,” Lance repeats.

And Keith can’t say anything else. “So kiss me.”

The pull into Lance’s lap is as gentle as the pull into his room, Keith following it down until he’s settled in and got his knees on either side of Lance’s hips. And even with their hands staying linked with one another, the pull brings them close - parted lips brushing and then pressing together so delicately that it barely makes a noise when they draw back, eyes closed before pressing again more confidently.

It has Keith’s chest soaring, his pulse quickening now that it’s broken free from the thicket of disappointment. Finally. Fully. He shifts a little closer, his chest against Lance’s. And when one of Lance’s hands pulls away, it’s so it can slide over the side of Keith’s neck and stay there when he leans back a bit, their foreheads resting against each other as he breathes out, “I like you...” eyes closed, “...like an insane amount...”

Keith has to let it sink in. Wishes he’d say it again with the way it brings an almost embarrassed heat to his face. “I don’t think I heard you right…”

Lance pauses, probably just as flustered, then, “I-...I didn’t wanna be by you today because you-... I…”

Patience, for once. “Just say it again.”

“I...like you an insane amount…?”

Both of them are most definitely blushing now, foreheads still leaned together and not even looking at each other. Keith can’t fight the grin on his face. “That a question?”

Lance groans lightly. “You’re makin’ me do all the work.”

“Mm…” he goes for another kiss - tries for a smooth one in between and is reassured that they’ll probably get better at it with time.

Lance sneaks another one in on the tail end and then lets their foreheads come together again. "I like you an insane amount," he repeats. "For real."

Keith smiles softly, the words finally sinking in. It only took three fucking times. 

“Hey Keith?”

“Hm?”

“It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“...you just wanna stay here tonight?”

He’s smiling when Keith leans back to assess the seriousness of his proposal, and it ignites that giddy bubble of _whatever_ in his chest when he sees it. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” and then he’s throwing his weight and tipping them both over to the side, “...’cause I wanna kiss you some more.”

Keith chuckles as their heads hit the pillow, legs tangling up together in the process and Lance’s arms sneaking around his waist. Because this is it. This is what his stupid heart has been pining for this whole time - what it’s been making a complete mess of itself over. And now he’s got it. Flustered blushing between kisses and all.

“Hey Lance?”

“Hmm?”

He’s got a hand on his cheek, “You’re still a way better kisser than the prince.” Lance chuckles. “And I like you an insane amount too.”

It feels good to say. Freeing. No longer something hidden and lurking and tugging. He says it and can say it as much as he wants to and he’s free. Finally.

Lance teasingly rubs his nose against Keith’s. “Happy to hear it, princess.”

 

_-_-_

 

It’s the second time they sleep next to each other.

And yes, if you’re wondering, there is _definitely_ spooning this time.

 

* * *

 

 

The new planet with new issues goes surprisingly well, and Keith doesn’t know if it’s because everyone had their shit considerably in check, or if the day was just destined to be good after waking up to Lance nuzzling into the side of his neck like a puppy.

The celebration that’s thrown for them - for saving the planet, that is...not for Keith and Lance’s first cuddlefest - is very casual and very relaxing and Keith watches it all unfold with some pretty killer appetizers, a thoughtful grin tugging softly at the corners of his mouth as Lance reenacts a particularly critical Voltron maneuver across the room. It’s entertaining. He guesses.

“Is that a smile? Where’d your angst go?”

The addition of Shiro’s comment would normally be enough for a showy frown or a pout or _something,_ but for once, Keith’s gonna leave the acting to Lance. “Want me to bring it back?”

“Hell no,” he laughs, crossing his arms and leaning back to take in the show as well. “It’s wherever Lance’s angst went, huh?”

Vague. But, “You could say that.”

Lance squares up dramatically across the room, mouth moving a mile a minute as he narrates his actions for the locals who’ve formed an audience around him.

Shiro hums a chuckle, shaking his head at the theatrics of it all, and then says: “Well good. I’m glad it worked out for you.”

And...well yeah. So’s Keith. _Very_ glad. Especially with how ridiculously up and down things had been along the way. Like _jesus christ_   he was engaged to the prince of a far off planet for a while there. But it all worked out. Somehow or another. Keith is a lucky bastard, is what he is.

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you to smile to yourself,” Shiro grins, hoisting himself from where he’s leaned next to him. “See you later.”

Keith throws him a barely acknowledging mumble, more interested in the applause breaking out around where Lance strikes a final pose, and then takes a dramatic bow, obviously as pleased with his own performance as they are. It brings another grin to Keith’s face, head tilting fondly as he watches.

Definitely a lucky bastard.

 

_-_-_

 

“Here.”

It’s nighttime now - back in the castle. The cream-colored flowers in the black vase were still glowing when Keith had unwrapped what he needed from them, and now here he is, Lance properly summoned into his room and staring down at where Keith is offering it to him, awkwardly avoiding eye contact because giving gifts isn’t really something he’s used to. Especially gifts to people he cares about.

“It’s pretty,” Lance says somewhere in front of him, “What is it?”

“Uh...here just-…” He unwraps it a little more so its circular form is more recognizable. He hopes.

“Is it a necklace?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to untangle it for you or something?”

Keith can hear the confusion in his tone from where he’s standing, still refusing to make eye contact. Untangle it? No. No, it’s- “It’s Ahtian. You’re supposed to-...” Okay, restart. “It’s for someone you...care about...I guess…”

Wow, is his face on fire.

And Lance isn’t answering.

Shit, too soon. Way too soon.

But, “W-...wait…” Lance is speaking, voice gone a bit soft. “Are you giving this to me?”

It’s just stuttery enough that Keith has to glance up, eyes meeting the very real red blush tinging high in Lance’s cheeks. Wait. He’s blushing? He’s into it?

“If you don’t want it-”

“I want it!”

His enthusiasm has Keith flinching a touch. “Even if Rahvi gave it to me first? I didn’t actually wear it, if that matters.”

Lance scoffs, obviously not considering it a factor. “If you think you can cheat me out of your first gift, you got another thing comin’.”

A huff of a laugh escapes him. “I’m not cheating you out of anything, Lance. I’m giving it to you if you want it.”

“I do.”

“You sure?”

Lance tsks and plucks the necklace out of Keith’s hand, reaching around himself to fasten it behind his neck and then look down at it with a kind of satisfaction that Keith doesn’t quite understand.

“Good?” he clarifies.

To which Lance hums another sigh of satisfaction and pulls Keith in against him. “Good.”

Oh thank god. “Good.” He lets his eyes close, face buried in Lance’s shoulder. “So there’s that. Now I’m gonna blow you. That okay?”

It’s got Lance tensing, a fresh blush taking over his face as he laughs weakly. “Is-...is this your first relationship by any chance?”

“...maybe.”

He tightens his hold, clearly embarrassed for a reason Keith doesn’t understand either. “We’ll work on it.”

Keith accepts it, whatever it means.

He’s just glad the necklace thing worked in his favor too.

“So you want a blowjob or not.”

“...y-...yes.”

 

* * *

 

Keith is happy. Honestly. It’s nice to be wanted by someone as much as he wants them. And it’s even nicer that it’s someone who he’s literally zooming through the universe with. That’s not to say there aren’t a few drawbacks. Like being around for more incessant internet jokes that he only gets because he’s heard Pidge say them before. Or sometimes wanting to be the big spoon, which Lance “allows” but says something about natural height roles because he still likes to hang onto the fact that he’s just a little bit taller and will call Keith “shorty” as many times as he can before Keith tells him to stop.

It’s small shit that’s more of a minor pain than it is a drawback. At the end of the day, Keith is still disgustingly into what they have together.

“It’s warm again,” Lance chuckles into Keith’s hair, big-spooning it up behind him. At least he’s good at it. Has all the angles covered.

Keith lets out a breath, pulse even. “What’s warm…”

“Necklace.” The one he hasn’t taken off since it was given to him.

Keith’s eyes narrow in thought. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

Wait. He jerks his head over his shoulder. “Know what?”

He can’t quite see Lance’s face, but he knows he’s sporting one of _those_ grins. “Wait seriously? Oh man. It’s like the blue flowers. But I finally figured out what makes it warm.” Oh no. Oh god. “It heats up around the little pendant thing every time you think about how much you love me.”

Every time he-

Blankets billow away and in a flash Keith’s up and straddling Lance, “Take it off!” desperate to undo the clasp behind his neck.

And Lance just laughs, fighting it off with half-assed attempts because: “No way!”

“Lance!”

“I like knowing!”

“Take it off right now!”

“Aww Keith doesn’t want me to know how much he loves me!”

And Keith simply continues on, trying his best and dodging tickles to the sides as his face heats up ten thousand degrees.

_Every single time_ he thinks about loving him?

Holy shit, Lance can never know.

 

\- THE END -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who stuck through this fic and especially all of you who took the time to leave feedback! These thirty-page chapters were fucking massive and I appreciate your dedication! And on that note, I'm already thirty pages into writing my next klance fic, which I hope you will check out too :D So yes, once again, thank you all so very very much! You're the best and I love you!

**Author's Note:**

> you can also come talk to me on [tumblr](http://whatthebodygraspsnot.tumblr.com/) too if you want ^_^


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